


The Date

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Peter is not spiderman, Starker, Tony is Ironman, snarkiness, the usual for guy/guy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 33,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Tony has a high society gala and he needs a date
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 163
Kudos: 727





	1. Chapter 1

“Look, all I’m saying is that I know this woman who would love to come as your date…”

Tony scowled, looking at Pepper as the two walked over to a table and sat down.

“I don’t need you hooking me up with a date, Pepper,” he growled. “I’m perfectly capable of getting a date. _Look at me_.”

She didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.

“So you're saying that you already _have_ a date?”

“Of course I do,” Stark replied. “I just haven’t decided if I even want to _go_ to this stupid gala.”

“ _You_ don’t want to go to a gala? _Tony Stark_? Social butterfly and party animal? I mean, you _do_ understand that there will be other rich and famous people there, right? An entire weekend of showing the rest of the world just how much better than them you are…”

The server walked over, smiling politely, and waiting for a lull in the conversation.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.

“Two martinis,” Stark ordered, annoyed. “And whatever _she_ wants.”

Pepper shook her head, and her smile was apologetic as she looked at the young man.

“I’ll have a bourbon. Thank you.”

The server nodded, his expressive brown eyes amused, assuring her that he’d dealt with far worse.

“Be right back.”

She waited until he was heading for the bar, somewhat surprised of the lack of awe that usually came with seeing the one and only Tony Stark, but gratified, too, that the server hadn’t made a huge deal out of the billionaire’s presence. The man didn’t need his ego stoked any further, after all.

“I’m _beginning_ to think you’re full of shit,” she said to Stark.

“What?”

“You don’t _have_ a date, do you?”

“I _have_ a date, Pepper.”

“A prostitute?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do they really charge by the weekend? Like in that movie?”

His scowl made her smile, realizing that she might have hit closer to home than she’d intended.

“It’s not a prostitute.”

“A gigolo?”

“That’s just a different name for a prostitute,” Tony pointed out. “Why are you being so annoying about this?”

“Because this gala is important. I don’t want some cheap floozie hanging on your arm all weekend making you look ridiculous. My friend can come with you. She’s young, and pretty enough even to satisfy you.”

“If she doesn’t have a penis, she’s not going to satisfy me, Pepper,” Tony said. “Besides, I told you; I already have a date. I don’t need you to hook me up.”

“With whom?” she asked, and this time she didn’t bother to hide her disbelief.

Which made him annoyed. The server walked back up to the table with their drinks, and Tony looked him over, quickly, assessing him. And reading his name tag.

“With Peter, here, of course.”

She looked up at the server, surprised. But not as surprised as the young man was.

“ _You’re_ Peter?”

The server nodded, uncertainly.

“Yes.”

“And you’re Tony’s date to the gala next weekend?”

“What? _No_. I don’t even know-“

“Anything about it,” Tony said, standing up and interrupting. “Because I didn’t _ask_ him, yet.” He hooked a hand onto the younger man’s elbow. “I told you I didn’t know if I even wanted to go, or not. Why would I invite him unless I was sure?”

“Wait,” Peter said, clearly confused. “What are you _talking_ about? Who-“

“The _gala_ ,” Tony said, forcing a smile while he looked at Pepper. “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it, right now. Pepper? You’ll excuse us?”

She rolled her eyes, amused.

“This I’ve _got_ to see.”

“Wait…” Peter said, as Tony tugged on his arm. “I don’t know what you-“

“Come on, honey,” Stark said, through his gritted teeth. “Let’s go talk about it. In private.”

“But-“

“Excuse us, Pepper. We’ll be right back.”

Bemused, she took a sip of her drink and watched as her boss pulled the confused young man away from the table and over to a corner.

><><><>

She wasn't the only one watching, however.

Before they even reached the corner, a very large man, bulging with muscles under a tight t-shirt, walked over to intercept them.

“Peter? Is there a problem?”

Clearly a bouncer, Tony realized, sizing the man up.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Peter said, looking annoyed at being hauled around so unceremoniously. “This guy just-“

Tony let go of the boy’s elbow and stuck his hand out to the newcomer, putting on his best smile.

“Tony Stark,” he said, introducing himself.

The man’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit. _Really_?”

“Honest to God,” Stark agreed. “I’m not causing any _trouble_ , I swear. I just need to have a quick word with Peter, here. In private,” he added, still putting on the charm to avoid offending the man – or garnering more attention from the club’s security people.

The man nodded, looking awed.

“Yeah. Of course. _Wow_.”

“Thank you.”

Tony turned back to the server, but there was a hesitant sound behind him. A throat being cleared. He turned back to the bouncer, who looked slightly embarrassed.

“Can I get a picture with you? No one would ever believe it, otherwise…”

“Sure.” He looked at Peter. “Hold on a second. Okay?”

The bouncer pulled his phone, and fumbled with it, too excited to be able to pull up the camera. Stark rolled his eyes, and took the device, handing it to the younger man.

“Here, Peter, take the picture, will you?”

Still dazed, but coming out of it, the boy did as he was told, and Tony frowned when the bouncer’s meaty hand came down on his shoulder, holding him, tightly, and drawing him right up against his side. He forced a smile, and looked at the camera. And the young man holding it.

“Got it?”

Peter’s eyes were suddenly just a little amused.

“Not, yet. Jim? Get a little _closer_ , buddy, you guys aren’t fitting in the frame.”

The bouncer pulled Stark closer, the hand tightening almost painfully on the billionaire’s shoulder.

“Better?”

“Yeah. That's it… hold on… just going to adjust the lighting…”

Stark scowled, catching on to what he was doing.

“There’s nothing wrong with the lighting.”

“Yeah. Not _now_.” The phone made an audible clicking noise. “Got it.”

“Thanks, Peter,” the bouncer said when the server handed him his phone back.

“Sure thing.”

He smirked at Tony, who shook his head as the bouncer left them.

“Cute.”

“You deserved it. I should have told him to take his shirt off and rub his pits against you.”

“I’m _not_ going to thank you.”

“Who _are_ you?” Peter asked. “What do you want?”

“What?” Tony frowned. “What do you mean, _who am I_? Didn’t you hear Paul Bunyan? I’m _Tony Stark_.”

“Oh.” The boy frowned, too. “You mean _Ironman_?”

“Do I mean…? _Yes_ , for fuck’s sake. I’m Ironman. What rock have you been living under that you don’t know who I am?”

“No need to be a dick about it,” Peter replied. “I’m not a twelve-year-old girl, now am I? How should I have known who you were?”

“I saved New York. Single-handedly.”

“I heard about that – although I heard _differently_.”

Stark scowled, tilting his head.

“I might have had some help.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you new to the area?”

“Just moved here.”

“From _Botswana_?”

Peter smirked.

“From Seattle.”

“Ugh.”

“Did you _need_ something, Mr. Stark?” the young man asked. “Or can I go finish what I was doing?”

“I need a date.”

“Yeah. I don’t know anyone around here, really…”

“No. I need _you_ to be my date,” Stark said. “For a gala. This weekend.”

“I’m working this weekend.”

“I’ll pay you twice what you’ll make working.”

“You’re Ironman. Why can’t you find a date?”

“Because I didn’t really think I’d need one, and now it’s short notice, and I _do_. You’re not ugly, and I’m desperate.”

The young man didn't look impressed.

“That’s such a tempting offer. I’ll pass, though, if it’s all the same.”


	2. 2

“You know what I mean,” Tony told him, backpedaling just a little. “I told Pepper _you_ were going with me. I can’t go back and tell her that you’re refusing.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t _work_ that way.” Tony huffed, annoyed at the very thought of going back and admitting to Pepper that he a) lied, or b) the stupid server didn’t even want _to_ go with him. “I need to have someone with me, to keep from being hit on all weekend.”

“It’s fancy?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have anything fancy to wear. And you don’t know me; I might not even be into guys.”

Stark rolled his eyes.

“You’re just _pretending_ to like guys,” he pointed out. “And pretending to like _me_ , in particular. We can go shopping for you some suitable clothing.”

“I have to work.”

“I’ll pay you $100,000.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Seriously. What do you say?”

Peter’s expression turned guarded.

“What would I have to do?” he asked, clearly expecting the worse.

“Just what I said,” he replied. “You dress nice, look pretty and pretend to like me.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

Tony scowled at the way he said it, like sleeping with him was something horrible. A fate worse than death.

“I’m not asking you to. What do you say?”

“Fine. But you use some of your Ironman influence and clear it with my boss so I have a job to come back to when this is all done.”

“Good.” The billionaire reached into his pocket, and pulled out a business card, which he handed to the young man. “Call me, tomorrow, and we’ll get you to my tailor.”

“Alright.”

“Right.” He turned and looked back toward the table where Pepper was seated. “Now we go back and you pretend like you were excited the whole time.”

“You’re just paying me for the _weekend_ ,” Peter reminded him, smirking. “Not tonight.”

“Jesus Christ…”

The young man smiled – and Tony decided that he would be kind of cute – if he wasn't such a smart ass.

“Just messing with you. I’ll pretend I’ve known you the whole time, Mr. Stark.”

“If you’re _dating_ me, you’d probably better call me _Tony_.”

“True. Do you want another drink, Tony?”

“No. I haven’t touched my other ones.”

“Don’t forget to talk to my boss.”

“I won’t. Don’t forget to act like you _like_ me.”

“Right.”

><><><><><

“I don’t think you fooled her.”

Stark nodded his agreement, watching as Pepper left the lounge – although _he_ was still sitting at the table, in no hurry to leave and head home, just yet. Peter had flitted in and out of their conversation the past hour, but he was working and hadn’t had much chance to do more than be introduced to Pepper and bring them something to eat to buffer their alcohol. Now, however, he was on a break – just in time to have Tony invite him to sit down and to watch Pepper leave.

“She’s too intelligent to fall for most of the shit that I tell her.”

“Then why do you bother?”

“Because it’s the way I am, I guess. And it keeps things interesting between us.”

“You like her?”

“As a _person_? Yes. She’s amazing, and in her own way, she’s _probably_ smarter than I am – although I’ll deny ever saying that, even if I have to put my hand on a million bibles. As a potential significant other? No.”

“Because you only date stupid non ugly people?”

“I never said you were _stupid_. And no. Because she’s a woman and I’m much more into men.”

“Huh.”

Tony looked at him, now.

“That surprises you?”

“No.” Then Peter shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t follow your social media or anything, but it seems to me that I’ve heard about you being a player.”

“Don’t always believe what the media tells you, Peter.”

“I stay away from the media.”

Stark nodded.

“So, now that we’re alone. Tell me about you – in case I need to make small talk during the gala and you come up in conversation. Let me guess… you’re from Seattle… so you’re either an aspiring actor, here to do off off off Broadway shows, or you’re a fisherman, who wants to try something new.”

The young man smiled.

“Not even close. I finished medical school at UW, and I’m here to do my residency.”

“You’re a _doctor_?”

“Getting there.” Peter smiled at the shock in Stark’s expression. “Eight years down, and about six more to go.”

“Jesus, what are you studying to be? A brain surgeon?”

“A heart surgeon.”

“How _old_ are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Huh.”

Peter shrugged.

“I look younger, I know.”

“A lot younger.” Like he should still be in high school, most likely. “Why are you working in this dump? You have a degree, right?”

“It’s not a dump, and the tips are great. They’re willing to work around my schedule, which will come in handy when my residency starts in a couple of months. Besides, why do I want to wear myself out working in an ER or something before I _have_ to do it for real? I’m getting some money saved up, and I have a chance to get more familiar with the city before I really start working hard.”

“That’s amazing.”

The boy couldn’t help but look smug. And proud of himself.

“Thanks.”

“My hundred grand will probably come in handy with student loans.”

“I don’t have any student loans. My education is from a trust from when I was a little kid.”

“Oh? You have a rich grandma paying for everything?”

He shook his head.

“My folks were killed in a plane crash when I was five. There was a big settlement and it went into a trust for me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

It was actually the most sincere thing that Peter had heard coming from Stark’s mouth all evening.

“Thank you. It was a long time ago, though. I’m over it.” He smiled. “Went through a _psychiatry_ rotation, and learned all about my issues.”

Tony made an amused noise.

“Just don’t let me near your couch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked at his watch. “I need to get back to work.”

“Yeah, so do I. Call me, tomorrow, like I said. We’ll get you fitted for some suits. If nothing else, you’ll come out of this the best dressed resident in the place.”

“True.”

The young man got up and went back to work, and Tony’s gaze followed him for a long moment before he got up, paid the tab, and left.

><><><>

The expensive sportscar looked out of place in front of the old brick apartment building. Tony didn’t mind, though, he liked the fact that a small crowd was gathering around when he double-parked and watched for Peter to arrive. He didn’t get out of the car, though, and talk to anyone – and he _didn’t_ lower the tinted windows to let them see who was behind the wheel.

Luckily, the young man (the _doctor_!) didn’t make him wait long.

Ignoring the small crowd – which was comprised mostly of young teens – he walked to the driver’s side, rather than the passenger side, forcing Tony to roll the window down.

“Get in, Peter.”

“I don’t know… you’re still pretty much a _stranger_ …” came the amused reply. “Should I _really_ get in the car with you? What if I get kidnapped?”

Stark scowled.

“Is there a reason you like to fuck with me? Or are you a wise ass by nature?”

“I think it’s just _you_ ,” Peter admitted. He gestured to the onlookers. “I have a _lot_ of witnesses… I’m just saying… If I don’t come home, there’ll probably be-“

“My tailor is waiting for us. Are you coming? Or do I run you over, instead?”

“Fine.” The young man walked around the car – the back of the car, as if it would be any harder to go into reverse and run him over, Tony though, amused – and opened the door. “You all see me getting in the car,” he said, hesitating. “Peter Parker… should be home by… when am I going to be home?”

“Whenever I bring you back.”

“By midnight.”

Smirking, he got into the car, closing the door and reaching for the seatbelt.

“Think you’re funny, don’t you?” Tony asked.

“I’m hilarious.”

Stark shook his head and put the car in gear.

“You’re lucky I need you.”

Peter didn’t reply; but he was still smiling when they pulled into traffic.


	3. 3

“Ever been to a tailor?” Tony asked as they were ushered into the high-class space that was occupied by his favorite tailor.

Peter shook his head.

“I usually just buy off the rack. Better deals that way.”

No sense wasting money that he really should save, after all.

“But nothing fits – and _looks_ – better than a tailored suit.” They were greeted by a short, nattily dressed man whose nose was pretty far in the air. “James. Good to see you.”

“Mr. Stark. A pleasure.”

“Thanks for making time for us. We need three suits – conservative – and a tux for my young friend.”

“Of course.”

“By _tomorrow_.”

The man barely missed a beat.

“No problem.” He was sizing Peter up as he walked the two men into a smaller, more private room, snapping his fingers, pompously. Another man – maybe a year or so older than Peter – came in, holding a tablet and a measuring tape. The tailor turned to Peter. “Shirt and pants off, please.”

Peter started to comply, scowling at Stark who began humming stripper music as the young man unbuttoned the jeans he was wearing.

“Do you mind?”

The billionaire gave him an innocent look.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Peter rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath when the humming started, again. 

“Jesus…”

Tony wasn't the only one to stare at Peter’s chest when he pulled his t-shirt off. The tailor sucked in a hissing breath, while the assistant actually paled.

The young man shrugged, glancing down at his chest, where a ragged scar was running from his left shoulder down his sternum and across his abdomen to vanish somewhere along his right hip. He was clearly used to such reactions.

“Yeah. No worries. It’s old.”

“Where did you get _that_?” Stark asked, moving around to get a better look.

It was old, he could tell; the lines were white with age, lacking the redness that showed up clearly on new scars – as he well knew.

“The same plane crash that killed my folks,” Peter told him, matter-of-factly.

“You were in the plane?”

“I was sitting between them.” He gave a slight smile. “I remember them telling me it was the safest place on the plane – between them, that is – and it must _have_ been. I fell asleep sometime after take-off and woke up in the hospital.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Yeah.” He looked at the tailor, clearly done discussing it, and Stark saw him shiver. “What do I do?”

The tailor stepped up, as did the assistant, and Tony stepped back to allow them room. As he watched, the older man took a million measurements and spouted them off to the assistant, who made notes of everything. By the time he was done – and it was done quickly and efficiently – Peter had goosebumps all over his skin.

“That’s what we need,” The tailor said, smiling. “Go ahead and get dressed.”

The assistant handed Peter his pants, and Tony watched him dress.

“Do I need to send someone to pick them up?”

“We’ll deliver them directly to him.”

“Good.” Tony glanced at Peter, saw that he was dressed and ready. “Add in a half dozen dress shirts, if you have time, and a dozen pairs of boxers – silk – and send me the bill.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the man promised.

“Make sure you add in a generous tip for you and your staff.

That was met with a smile.

“Thank you.”

Tony left, not watching to see if Peter was following – although he _did_ hold the door for him when they walked back out onto the street, toward the valet.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, as his car was driven up and stopped in front of them.

“You’re going to feed me, too?”

Tony waited until they were in the car.

“I need some time with you, right? If we’re going to pass as a couple, I probably shouldn’t be shocked when you take your shirt off and I see a scar like that. Any others I need to know about?”

“One on my thigh.”

“Huh. And the shivering thing?” Proving that he didn’t miss, much. Of course, he was ultra perceptive, so of course he didn’t. “What’s that all about? The conversation? Or something else?”

“I don’t regulate my body temperature very well,” was the reply. “I get cold easily. When it’s warm, like today, it isn’t usually an issue, but in the wintertime I’m always freezing.”

“See? That’s something I would _know_ , right?”

“I’d assume. And _you_? What should I know?”

The billionaire smirked.

“If you were a twelve-year-old girl, you’d already know it.”

That made Peter chuckle.

“You can buy me lunch and we’ll talk.”

“Che Faursa?”

“I’m thinking something a little less fancy.”

“McDonald’s?”

“How about something in the middle?” He raised an eyebrow. “IHOP?”

“You want pancakes? For _lunch_?”

“They have other stuff, but yes. Are you too good for IHOP?”

“Yes.” He reached over and turned on the heat, even though it wasn't really cold in the car. “But if you want pancakes, then we’ll go to IHOP.”

><><<><>

Tony Stark didn’t go to IHOP. Obviously. He went to fancy restaurants and ate with stuffy people, or his own very small circle of friends and acquaintances. He didn’t go to out of the way normal eateries that didn’t require a reservation several months in advance or a big name to be dropped in lieu of that reservation. Because of that, he wasn't recognized when he and Peter walked into the IHOP half an hour later.

He was just a handsome guy in a slightly nicer than normal suit accompanied by a younger man who didn’t look enough like him to be his son, but was probably a relative. Or maybe they were missionaries planning their next campaign over a late breakfast. They were led to a corner booth by a pleasant hostess and both ordered coffee.

There was enough ambient noise that no one else could hear them. Peter took his coffee from the waiter, but declined a menu, and watched as Stark frowned when one was offered to him.

“Just set it down for me, will you?”

The waiter nodded and did as he was told, telling them that he’d be back to take their order.

“You don’t like being handed things?” Peter asked, proving that he was just as observant as Tony.

“It’s not my favorite thing, no.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t start psychoanalyzing me, Parker.”

“I just said huh.”

“It’s just a thing.”

“I get it.”

Feeling just a little defensive, even though there was nothing in the young man’s expression that should have made him that way, Tony picked up the menu.

“You don’t need one because you have it memorized?”

It was a dig, but also an acknowledgement that the younger man was smart enough to maybe have done just that.

Peter smiled.

“I don’t _need_ one because I go to IHOP often enough that I know what I want without looking.”

“Which is?”

“Pancakes.”

“You could have something more original,” Tony pointed out. “I’m buying.”

Peter smirked.

“It’s the International House of Pancakes. What else would I have?”

“ _I’m_ not having pancakes.”

“They have blueberry syrup.”

“Oh, well in that case… I’m _not_ having pancakes.”


	4. 4

The boy chuckled, but was silent to give Tony a chance to look through the menu. It didn’t take long, but he clearly wasn't enamored by the options. The waiter arrived and asked if they were ready, and Peter asked for pancakes, eggs and sausages – with an orange juice. Then both looked at the billionaire, who closed the menu with a snap.

“I’ll have a burger.”

“Separate checks?”

“Put them together,” Peter said. “And give it to me.”

The waiter nodded, and left, taking his menu with him, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not adding it to your $100,000.”

Peter snorted.

“I didn’t expect you to.” He leaned forward, a little. “Tell me about yourself. Something that I should know that others don’t.”

“There isn’t much to tell that others don’t already know. Between me being _Tony Stark_ , and me becoming _Ironman_ , I’m pretty well known to the public.” He frowned, remembering that the kid hadn’t even recognized him by name the night before. “ _Mostly_.”

“So you’re rich and you’re famous – and you know the Avengers. What do you do for fun?”

“I make money.”

“On a printing press?”

“In business. A _lot_ of money.”

“Which you spend on…?” Peter shrugged. “If I _have_ to, I suppose I can make things up if someone asks me these questions. ‘What does Tony do for fun’? he’s a synchronized swimmer and weaves baskets…”

“I build things,” Stark said. “Robots, tech, and the most incredible AI in the world.”

“The AI is in the Ironman suit?”

“Yes. The robots help me build other things.”

“That’s interesting.” Peter took a sip of his coffee. “What else? Something really juicy I could gossip about – if I had any friends here to gossip with.”

“No one’s going to talk to you, Peter,” Tony told him. “They’re going to all spend the entire weekend trying to schmooze with me to get me to sign off on some project – either business or political – and you’re just going to be there to keep them from trying to get me in the sack.”

There was a flash of annoyance in the younger man’s eyes – he had really pretty, and very expressive eyes.

“And if someone happens to see me and say to themselves, ‘hey, there’s a not ugly guy hanging out with Tony Stark. I wonder where they met…’ and happens to ask, I’ll just tell them that I met you at the bar, where you paid me to come hang out with you, and took me to a tailor on 156th – because that’s _literally_ all I know about you.”

“I like to dance,” Tony said, accepting the reprimand with very little grace, but realizing that he had come pretty close to crossing the line between being a smart ass and just being an ass. “ _Slow_ dance. And I enjoy quiet walks on the beach in the moonlight – although it’s been forever since I’ve actually done that with anyone other than myself – I love to drive fast and if pressed, I can give a pretty good massage. Better?”

“Yes.”

“Now you.”

Peter shrugged.

“I was raised by my aunt and uncle. I’m going to be a heart surgeon. I play the piano, I can dance, I like to sketch, and if I am drunk enough, I will sing karaoke.”

That made Stark smile.

“Do you have a go-to song?”

“I do requests.”

They were interrupted by the waiter returning to top off their coffee, and when he was gone Peter spoke up, again. “Tell me about this gala. It’s an entire weekend?”

“Right. We fly down tomorrow night, and use the first night to settle in. The next day is silent auctions to benefit a couple of different causes, and that night there’s a formal dinner. The next day is a free day to socialize with the others – or just enjoy yourself doing whatever you want – and Sunday night the results from the auction are announced during a cocktail party. I have to be present for all of it, but we can fly back here that night – or we can wait until Monday.”

Peter had paled, slightly.

“We’re _flying_?”

“It’s in St. Petersburg, Florida.” He realized, then, that flying might not be on the young man’s list of favorite things. “It’s a short flight, Peter; take off, cruise a couple of hours and then land.”

“Right.” Peter nodded. “I mean, yeah. No worries.”

“It’s too far to drive,” Tony said. “Otherwise I’d-“

“No. It’s okay. Really.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ve flown before. I’m not going to freak out on your, or anything.”

“Good.” Tony was clearly trying to think of something to say that would be reassuring. “It’s my private plane, so there’ll just be the two of us, the pilots and a stewardess. Very posh. You won’t even know you’re in the air.”

Peter nodded, again, and forced a smile.

“Okay.”

“So I assume we can add afraid to fly on your list of likes and dislikes?”

“ _Wary_ of flying… yes.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony told him, just as they were interrupted by their meal arriving. “I’ll hold your hand the whole way.”

“Careful what you promise,” Peter said, giving the billionaire a shaky smile before turning to the waiter. “I might hold you to that.”

><><><>><>

They lingered over their meal, talking about the gala – or who might be there. It was a who’s who of important politicians and businesspeople – as well as a smattering of celebrities. Some, like Tony, were a combination of both, and some were all of the above. Stark didn’t have an actual list, but he’d been to plenty of the things and knew who usually showed.

“Sometimes there are even people looking for husbands for their daughters – or for themselves,” he told Peter as they finished a final cup of coffee. “That’s where you’re going to come in. I have no intention of coming out of this gala with a wife, or even a lover. If someone even gets close to me, it’s your job to convince them that I’m taken.”

“By me?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Yes. By you. You _can_ be convincing, right?”

Peter smirked, and suddenly his eyes seemed to get a little wider, a little darker and a lot sexier, as he reached out and slid his fingertips over the back of Tony’s hand where it rested on the table. The younger man’s thumb brushed against Tony’s, but he never looked away from the billionaire’s eyes.

“Make them understand that you belong only to me?” he said, softly. “That I’m going to take you back to your room at the end of the evening and strip you down and run my hands along your body until you’re aching for me in every way?”

Tony licked his lip, unable to pull his gaze from the younger man, shocked by the response – and a little amused (and annoyed?) to find that he was actually getting hard.

“Yeah…” it was a hoarse croak, and he cleared his throat. “Yes. Just like that,” he said, pulling his hand out from under Peter’s. “Fuck. Yes. Like that.”

Peter grinned, and his eyes were once more cheerful – although still amazing.

“I think I’ll be able to convince them.”

“The tailor will deliver your new suits and the tux,” Tony told him, still feeling the effects of Peter’s display. “Pack them all, okay? Just in case you spill – or someone spills on you. I’m traveling casual and you can, too – jeans, or slacks, that kind of thing, whatever you want.”

“All right.”

“I’ll send the car for you. Pack for four days. Bring a bathing suit; we might find time to swim.”

“In the ocean?”

“No, in my wineglass. Duh. We’ll be on a sandy white beach.”

“I’ll pass.”

“You don’t like the ocean?”

Who didn’t like the _ocean_?

“I saw _Jaws_.”

“That’s a movie.”

“I’ve seen medical histories of shark attacks,” he added. “And jellyfish, stingrays, even a guy who had a bacterial microbe swim up his urethra and infect his brain. I watched a nature documentary on BBC that showed a shoal of fish – and the sharks waiting for them – all less than ten feet from unknown swimmers. I’ll pass on the ocean, thank you.”

Stark rolled his eyes.

“We’ll have a pool, too. Bring trunks.”

Peter shrugged.

“Alright.”

“Any questions?” Tony asked as Peter handed the waiter a credit card and the check.

“Nope. Seems like a good time.”

“It’s a boring pain in the ass,” Tony told them as they walked out into the late afternoon sun. “But you’ll make it a little more interesting, I think. So there is that.”

“That’s my creed,” Peter said, sarcastically, even though he smiled, approvingly, when Tony stopped at the car and opened his door for him, first. “Be more interesting than the boring gala.”

“We can hope.” He waited until Peter had slid into the luxurious seat and then closed the door, going around and getting behind the wheel. “Need to stop anywhere, now that you have me out and about?”

“I’m tempted to tell you I need to go to Walmart – just so I can see if you even know where it is – but I can’t think of anything that I need, thank you.”

“Good.” He started the car and reversed out of the spot, before putting it into gear and pulling out of the parking lot a little recklessly – proving the whole part about enjoying driving fast. “And for your information, I happen to know where Walmart is. I’ve just never been in there.”

Peter smirked, and tried not t clutch the dash when they went around a corner faster than he would have.

“Don’t forget,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You need me alive for this weekend…”

Stark chuckled.

“I’m a better driver than that,” he said.

He _did_ slow down, though – and Peter managed to breath, again.


	5. 5

Tony was standing at the foot of the steps leading up to the private jet when the car he’d sent to pick Peter up pulled up. The driver opened the door, and Peter got out, wearing slacks and a button down shirt, as well as loafers. He was also wearing a heavy hooded sweatshirt, despite the balmy evening.

“How was the drive?” Tony asked, walking over as the driver opened the trunk to pull Peter’s luggage out and hand it over to the jet’s steward, who would know better where to store it on the plane.

“It was good.”

“No trouble with the delivery from the tailor?”

“Everything went smoothly.”

“Tell me you tried them on to make sure they fit?”

Peter smiled.

“The tailor and his assistant were the ones who delivered them. They had me try on everything but the boxers – just to make sure they didn’t need any alterations. Which they were apparently ready to do, right there in my apartment.”

“You didn’t try the boxers on?”

The younger man shook his head.

“I’m not too worried about the fit.”

“Did you pack them?”

“Yes.”

“And swim trunks? Or are you a speedo guy?”

“I brought trunks.”

“Good.” He caught Peter’s elbow with his hand, turning him toward the plane. “Let’s get boarded and get out of here.”

Peter allowed him to walk him up the stairs, looking around the interior of the jet as they walked in. It was plush, as promised, with four individual seats, as well as a padded couch that ran the length of either side of the fuselage.

“This is nice.”

“Only the best,” Tony told him, pushing him to a seat. “Get buckled in. Want something to drink?”

“A scotch.”

Stark raised an eyebrow at that, but assumed it was the nervousness of the upcoming flight, since Peter had told him that he wasn't much of a drinker. The steward nodded that he’d heard the order, and vanished, while Tony left Peter long enough to go tell the pilots they were ready, and then returned to sit across from him so he could watch him.

“You don’t _really_ need me to hold your hand, do you?” he asked, as Peter accepted the drink the steward brought, handing Tony his, first. “You’re okay?”

He didn’t look quite as unnerved as he had the day before.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Tony downed his drink and buckled in as the engines came on, sending a gentle vibration through the body of the plane – and those sitting in it. Peter _did_ pale, a little, and he downed his drink in a single swallow, as well. Then he leaned back in his seat, holding the armrests and closing his eyes.

“It’s just bumpy at the beginning,” Stark assured him, trying to comfort. He’d seen the scar, and couldn’t even bring himself to make fun of the young man for being nervous. The opposite, really, because he was as impressed as hell that the guy was brave enough to do something that was clearly out of his comfort level. “It’ll smooth out when we hit cruising altitude.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He didn’t open his eyes, though.

He didn’t open them when the jet taxied to the end of the runway, or when the powerful engines roared to full throttle as they began rolling, ever faster, and then took off. There was a little turbulence, then, and the bump of the landing gear locking into place, and a sharp intake of breath as they shot into the sky at what probably felt like near vertical for several minutes before the jet levelled off. Even then, Peter didn’t open his eyes, and Tony could see that his knuckles were white where they were holding the armrest.

There was a faint sheen of sweat on the boy’s upper lip (and probably another on his forehead, but it was hidden by his curls).

“Do you want another drink?” the billionaire asked, softly.

Peter opened his eyes, and gave him a shaky smile.

“No. Thank you.”

“Then let’s distract you with something else. Cards?”

“Yeah.”

A table was suddenly rising out of the floor between them, and the ever-present steward brought a deck of cards and a score pad and pencil. Peter finally released the armrest and leaned forward, a little. Tony smiled, shuffling.

“Do you know how to play gin?”

“Sure.”

“Should we make it interesting?”

Peter’s cocky smirk lacked a lot of the confidence it normally held, but he shrugged, grateful for the distraction – and Stark’s willingness to supply it.

“What did you have in mind?”

><><><><><>

“This is pretty nice…”

Tony smirked, looking at the young man walking beside him, who had his arm hooked through Tony’s elbow, now playing the part that he was being paid to play – even though they didn’t actually know if anyone would be around to see them.

“Pretty nice? You might say that.”

It was _really_ nice. Luxurious and expensive and the exact kind of venue one would expect for a gathering of the extremely wealthy or famous. They had left the airfield in a fancy limo that was far too much car for just the two of them, but that was an indication of how the weekend was going to be, Peter decided. The drive had given him a chance to regain some of his equilibrium, and he was feeling a bit better by the time they’d pulled up to the hotel, which was connected to a convention center that was hosting the gala.

They were ushered out of the car and into the lobby, which was a masterpiece of glass, marble and brightly shined metal. There was no check-in, either. As Tony held Peter close, they were led to an elevator that was labeled for the penthouse, and a couple of bellhops in fancy uniforms followed with their luggage. The elevator deposited them on the top floor, and one of the hotel staff bowed Peter and Tony into the room, while the bellhops started unpacking the hanging luggage, putting their suits away to allow them a chance to lose any wrinkles. Tony gave them all a tip and they left, leaving the two men standing in the middle of the room – which had a breathtaking view, a well-appointed living area and an open door that led to the bedroom.

Peter let go of Tony and walked around to check the place out, curiously, and frowned.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Well, yeah.” Tony glanced into the bedroom, as well. “We’re pretending to be an item, Peter. I’m not going to be safe from other advances if you have your own room – or your own _bed_ , now am I?”

“I’ll sleep on the couch in here.”

It looked plush and comfortable. He realized that there was a sliding door leading out to the balcony and the centerpiece of that area was a hot tub.

“You’re not sleeping on the _couch_ ,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “The staff will talk if they see any sign that we’re not sharing a bed. Which will screw this up.”

“I’m not sleeping with _you_.”

“It’s a big bed, Peter. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. We’re adults, right? I’ll keep my hands to myself, and you try to do the same. No copping a feel in the middle of the night.”

He still didn’t look convinced, and Tony shrugged.

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman. You’ll see.”

It wasn't like he couldn’t have any woman (or man, for that matter) that he wanted. He didn’t _have_ to make advances on someone not interested. Although that did make him a little annoyed, really, because he _liked_ the fact that people wanted to sleep with him. It stoked his ego like almost nothing else could. He just wanted it to happen on his own terms. Which was the whole point of bringing Peter along in the first place.

Peter eventually nodded.

“Alright.”

“Good. It’s settled.” Tony looked at his watch. “It’s late and I’m not ready to be sociable with anyone. Are you hungry? We could get some room service and maybe soak in the hot tub to shake off the stress of the flight – unless you’re worried about finding a shark, or a stingray in the water?”

The younger man rolled his eyes, amused despite himself.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I’m _hilarious_ ,” Stark replied, shooting Peter’s own words from an earlier conversation back at him. “I’ll order something to eat, you go make sure the water’s hot.”


	6. 6

He wasn't really in the mood to do any of that; flying made him tired more than anything, but a soak in a hot tub sounded like a nice idea – although he’d have preferred it alone and not with an audience.

“Nothing too heavy,” Peter said, walking across the living room area and toward the glass sliding door. “I won’t be able to sleep if I’m bogged down with a lot of food.”

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” Stark asked. “I would _probably_ know that, right?”

“No allergies. You?”

“Just stupid people.”

“Then don’t eat them,” Peter told him, walking out onto the balcony and admiring the view – although he did shiver, slightly, in the faint breeze.

“ _Don’t eat them_ …” Tony smiled, watching the young man on the balcony while he picked up the phone.

Peter walked over to the railing and looked down, and then went to check the water in the hot tub – which was closer to the door than to the edge of the balcony. There were places for drinks and presumably plates so meals could be enjoyed while soaking, or drinks could be imbibed. He stuck his hand in the water and was pleased by just how hot it was.

Maybe soaking in the hot tub really was a good idea, after all.

“Well?” Tony asked, just hanging up the phone as Peter walked back into the room. “Are we good?”

“It’s nice,” he conceded. “The view is fantastic, too.”

Stark smirked, he couldn’t help it.

“I’m glad you approve. Club sandwiches and fries for dinner.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“Go ahead and get changed and get started without me,” Tony told him. “I’ll wait for room service and bring it out to you.”

Peter’s lip quirked at that.

“Tony Stark, delivering me my dinner while I’m soaking in the hot tub at a fancy penthouse hotel room? Every fangirl’s dream.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Stark said. “I’m much more used to being waited on than not.” He smiled to show that he wasn't serious – _much_ – and waved him away. “Go ahead, Peter. I’ll be right there.”

><><><>

Tony flipped through his phone while waiting for room service. He was seated on the end of the sofa, and Peter came out of the bedroom wearing a robe and carrying a couple of towels. He didn’t stop, though, and Tony didn’t stop him – although he did watch as he walked out onto the balcony, slipped out of the robe and climbed the steps into the hot tub.

Stark went back to his messages, but every now and then would look up to glance over through the glass and onto the balcony. Peter wasn't doing anything interesting, though; he was just leaning back against the seat, and Tony was too far away to see if his eyes were closed.

A discreet knock on the penthouse door announced the arrival of their dinner, and he thanked the server, tipped him and then closed the door and put up the do not disturb placard – just to keep up pretenses and carried their dinner out to the balcony.

Peter’s eyes were closed, and he was immersed in the water up to his neck. Even through the bubbles caused by the jets, Tony could see the horrific scar that ran along his torso.

“Are you asleep?”

The young man opened his eyes.

“No. But I could fall asleep fairly easily, I think. This was a good idea.”

“Yeah. Dinner’s here.”

Peter sat up, and shivered just a bit when his wet skin hit the cooler air.

“Thank you.”

“Coffee? A cola? Or something stronger?” Tony asked, setting the plate with the young man’s sandwich next to him.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He’d brought out a bottle of water.

“Go ahead and eat. I’ll be right back.”

Tony went into the bedroom, shedding clothing and digging in the dresser for his shorts. He grabbed a robe, too, but just draped it over his shoulder as he walked out. He saw Peter’s eyes glancing at the arc reactor in his chest as he climbed into the perfectly heated water and reached for his own plate.

“Does that hurt?” Peter asked.

“Nope. There’s an ache sometimes. Better than being dead, right?”

“True. Have you consulted with a surgeon to have the metal shards removed?”

“I have.” He shouldn’t be surprised by the line of questioning. Not from a guy who was one step (although several years) from _being_ a heart surgeon. “It’s not impossible, but it’s risky.”

“I imagine.”

Tony took a bite of his sandwich, and gestured with it towards Peter’s chest.

“Does _that_ hurt?”

The young man looked down at the scar, and shook his head.

“Sometimes. It’s long-healed, but it was a pretty bad injury. They didn’t even realize I was alive, at first, when they pulled me out of my seat. I guess I made a noise, or something. A piece of the fuselage was sticking out of me.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine how gruesome I looked. Much worse than I do, now – and even now it isn’t pretty.”

“It isn’t so bad,” Tony assured him, studying the scar. “It just takes a little getting used to. Better than being dead.”

“Yes.”

“You’re fully recovered? No pieces missing inside?”

“A chunk of my liver, a fair-sized piece of small intestine and it saved me the trouble of ever needing to have my appendix out. The liver grew back, the rest isn’t crucial.”

“That’s good. Is that why you don’t regulate your body temperature? Something inside got scrambled?”

Peter smiled.

“Very good. My thyroid. One reason why I will almost certainly be getting carded for the rest of my life, as well. I _am_ fully developed – and pretty muscular, really – but I’ll probably always look young, and I don’t need to shave more than once or twice a week.”

“I bet your doctor buddies were all kinds of interested in you…”

“Absolutely. I drew the line, though, when it came to letting them strip me naked and start drawing on my skin where pieces were supposed to be.”

“They missed out, I’m sure.”

Peter gave him a slight smile, probably uncertain if that was intended as a compliment, or just a comment about the medical side of things, but Stark schooled his features to keep him in the dark. Eventually the younger man just shrugged.

“We still passed the rotation.”

“How many years as a resident?”

“Four for a surgeon. Probably. Right now I’m qualified as a doctor. A very raw, green one, but legally a doctor. To be what I _want_ to be, though, it’s going to take a bit longer.”

Tony was curious about it, and he didn’t mind allowing that to show. Mainly he was fascinated with the fact that Peter was so ridiculously young for the responsibilities that he was qualified for.

“You started medical school when…?”

“Pre med at sixteen.”

“That’s amazing.”

The younger man smiled, taking a bite of his sandwich – although Stark was sure that the red in his cheeks wasn't just because of the hot water.

“I’m an amazing guy, Tony,” Peter told him, condescendingly – although the smile made it amusing, rather than annoying. “I thought you already figured that out.”

Stark shook his head.

“I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone more arrogant than I am. I _love_ it.”

Peter just shrugged.

“It comes with the territory,” he replied. “Something about it being hard to be humble when you’re as good as you think you are…?”

Tony laughed.

“I can relate.”

They soaked in the tub well after they were finished eating, but the hot water was making Peter relaxed and sleepy, and Tony had to admit (to himself) that it was adorable to watch the younger man try to stay awake and carry on a conversation when it was clear that he was tired. He finally decided to call it a night, figuring that Peter might just be trying to be polite. Which was nice, but not necessary.

“I’m tired,” he said, standing up and sloughing water off his body with his hands before reaching for a towel. “I’ll shower, first. Do you have a preference on which side of the bed you want?”

Peter looked up at him, and Tony didn’t miss that the younger man’s eyes roamed his mostly naked body. He felt a slight shiver run through him at the thought of being mentally undressed – although there wasn't much to take off, of course – and he was somewhat relieved that he’d started working out a little more, to get into better shape.

At least he’d lost the slight gut – although his ass was still a little rounder than he wanted.

“Either one is fine,” Peter said, leaning back, again. If Tony was showering, first, there was no hurry for him to get out of the hot tub. He’d definitely want to wash all the chemicals off before going to bed. “I’m not picky.”

Stark got out, slowly, allowing Peter to get an extra look, then he dried off and put on the robe.

“We can leave the dishes here. Housekeeping will deal with them for us in the morning.”

“Alright.”

Tony went back to the bedroom, stripped out of his wet shorts, which he left hanging so they could dry, and took a shower. He changed into boxers and a pair of sweats, although normally he wouldn’t have bothered. With Peter joining him in his bed, he was tempted to sleep naked as usual, just to fuck with the kid (figuratively, not in actuality) but he didn’t.

This time.

He was in bed and propped up by a couple of pillows, once more looking at his phone, when Peter walked into the room, the robe he was wearing wrapped tightly around him. Not out of modesty, Tony decided, but because he was cold after spending so long in the hot water. The billionaire had a chance to do a little mental undressing of his own as he watched the young man dig for something to sleep in and then pull the robe off and hang it so it could dry before he vanished into the bathroom. His body was lean, and muscular, with very little fat and not much body hair.

A perpetual twink, Tony thought, knowing that some men – himself included? – would love that. Tony also saw the scar that ran down the side of Peter’s thigh, then. Not too bad – nothing as heinous as the one across his chest, but noticeable.

Tony heard the shower start and had no trouble picturing Peter naked under the spray, washing himself. He smiled, amused at himself for doing it, but he couldn’t help but close his eyes and imagine that young body covered in soap, and Peter’s eyes closed to avoid getting shampoo in them. He wondered how big he was, down there… wondered if Peter was stroking himself. He had to _wash_ it, right? Tony slid his hand to his groin, suddenly feeling the tenseness of inceptive arousal as he thought about the younger man running his hands along his body, washing it…

With a soft curse, he shook his head, opening his eyes and moving his hand back above the blanket. That wasn't going to get him anywhere, and there was no completion. No time to finish himself off, and very little chance Peter would be willing. By the time the younger man walked out into the bedroom, Tony was in control of himself, again, and had his attention on his phone.

The boy walked over to the empty side of the bed. He was wearing sweats, fuzzy socks and a long-sleeved shirt. Tony looked up at him, setting his phone down.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he said, pulling back the blankets to show that even though he was bare-chested, he wasn’t naked. “I’ve already promised to be good, remember?”

“Yeah.” Peter gingerly slid into the bed, and Tony reached over to cover him – brushing his hand along his hip, lightly, as he tucked him in. “What are you looking at?” Peter asked, rolling onto his side toward the older man, but maintaining a little space between them. “ _Porn_?”

Tony smirked, and turned his screen toward Peter.

“Stocks, right now. Earlier it was some tech companies that I’m interested in merging with.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll save the porn until after you’re asleep.”

Peter smiled, finding the comment more relaxing than anything, and he allowed himself to sink into the pillows a little more, pulling the blanket close as he settled in beside the billionaire. He was shivering, but that was common – especially after a shower. He looked up at Tony.

“Are you going to be doing that long?”

“Keeping you awake?”

“No. But you should get some sleep. Not to mention it isn’t good for your eyes to stare at a screen all day.”

Stark rolled his eyes, but he turned off the phone and set it on the stand on his side of the bed.

“You already sound like a doctor, honey.”

“Because I _am_ one,” the boy told him, smiling. He didn’t even comment on the endearment, assuming Stark was getting into the role they were going to be playing. “Might as well get used to it, because I’ll probably be spouting things at you all weekend if I see you doing something unhealthy.”

“Ugh. Can I pay you extra not to?”

“Nope. My price is set and firm. No added conditions. You get me as I am.”

Tony settled himself, laying more prone and rolling over to face Peter and just stopping himself from reaching out and touching his cheek. Instead, he reached back and turned off the light, leaving the faint glow of the arc reactor as the only real light other than the bathroom.

“I suppose I can live with that. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“You should come up with a term of endearment for me…”

Peter’s eyes glowed, cheerfully, in the light from the arc reactor, as he looked at him.

“Yeah? Like Sugar? Or snookums?”

“If you call me snookums, my head will literally pop off and you’ll be covered in blood and brains. A _lot_ of brains, because I’m a smart guy.”

“That’s gross.”

“So is snookums. Figure out something else. Not Sugar.”

“What are you going to call me? Honey?”

“M-hmmm. You good with that?”

“Yes.” He _liked_ it, really. “Boo?”

“Ugh.”

“Lover?”

“Not unless we actually are. Keep trying.”

“Sweetums?”

“Jesus. You’re bad at this.”

“I’ll sleep on it and let you know in the morning.”

“Just remember, you’re going to be calling me it all weekend – not just at the events. So make it something simple.”

“Tones?”

“No.”

“Sweetie?”

Tony groaned, and purposely closed his eyes.

“Go to sleep, honey.”

There was a soft chuckle.

“Okay, babe.”

The billionaire didn’t reject that one, off hand. But he waited, to see if Peter came up with something better. There was a long moment of silence between them, and then he heard a soft snore He opened his eyes, amused, and confirmed that, yes, in the space of only minutes, Peter had gone from an actual conversation to sleep. It wasn't an ability that Tony shared.

He lay awake a long time before he finally drifted off, too.


	7. 7

“So what time does this silent auction thing start?”

“Noon. But we’re not going to rush to get there. I prefer to make an entrance. We’ll spend the morning being seen, but not really socializing with anyone – unless Pepper happens to show up, early. And some people might want to make preliminary conversations with me. Nothing too formal, since they all will know they have to wait until Pepper gets here. But they’ll want to start feeling me out, since it’s my company and I have final say.”

“She isn’t here, already?”

Peter had wondered why she hadn’t flown down with them on the jet, but hadn’t asked.

“She’ll be here for the final event, but she has better things to do than waste her time working a room all weekend.”

Peter smiled at that.

“And _you_ don’t?”

“My job is to show up and be the entertainment.”

“So how does one get seen but not be forced to socialize with those he is seen by?”

“You make sure you’re too busy to be interrupted.”

“Oh.”

They were sitting on the balcony eating breakfast, and Tony was in an especially good mood. Not only did he get more sleep the night before than he usually did – thanks to literally being told to go to sleep by his young companion – but when he’d woken that morning, he’d found Peter curled right up against him, leeching his warmth with his face tucked into Tony’s collarbone.

Tony hadn’t moved, not wanting to disturb him – and in truth, he was enjoying the contact – so when Peter finally woke, he found himself intimately close, but had merely smiled an apology and stretched and slowly made his way back to his own now cold spot. Where he’d shivered enough that Stark scooted closer to him, more than willing to share his body heat.

He had plenty to spare, after all.

“One of the charities the gala is supporting is a children’s hospital right down the street,” Tony told him as he smelled a small container, trying to decide what kind of berry the jam inside was. “I thought Ironman might make a surprise visit. Interested?”

Peter’s eyes lit up at the thought.

“That’s a great idea. Are you wearing the full suit?”

“No. I’ll bring an arm so the kids can have pictures with me, but we need to make sure it’s clear that it’s _Tony Stark_ doing the visit. So we can’t cover my pretty face.”

The young man rolled his eyes, but he was too enamored of the idea to even be annoyed at the hubris that oozed with the statement.

“Did you pack a spare?” he asked, with only a little sarcasm. “I didn’t see it in with the luggage.”

“It’s in one of my bags, honey. We’ll take it with us and leave as soon as we’re done eating. Casual clothes, though. We’re visiting kids. They don’t care if I’m in a suit, or not.”

“Right.”

He couldn’t wait to finish eating, though.

><><><><

As mornings went, it couldn’t have gone better.

Tony and Peter showed up at the hospital unannounced. They spoke with the administrators, first, who were clearly surprised but definitely all for the idea of a superhero in their corridors. They mapped out a path of rooms to be visited; children who were sick, but not so sick that they couldn’t handle the excitement of the visit.

Peter trailed behind Tony and the hospital personnel that joined them and watched as the billionaire lowered himself to the level of whatever child he was visiting. He would allow the kid to touch the metal armored gauntlet that he wore, now, on his right hand and forearm, and they would take pictures. With the kid, and with the kid’s parents or family, if they were there.

Sometimes Peter would take the pictures, but usually it was a hospital staffer who did the honors. The young man was impressed by what he saw. Either Tony Stark was an incredible actor, or he truly liked children a lot more than he liked adults. He was gentle, kind, and sincere as he asked them how they were feeling, and was patient with the ones who were particularly shy, bringing them out of their shell enough to get at least a smile before he moved onto the next.

For his part, Tony was given a glimpse of the real Peter Parker – _Dr. Peter Parker_ – as they walked through the corridors and visited various rooms. When a patient’s parent – and sometimes the patient – spewed off the name of the illness the child had, Tony had to ask what it meant, and Peter never did. The young man was wonderful, not only with the kids they were visiting, but he was able to have an intelligent conversation with each parent, discussing treatments, reactions to various medications and how the prognosis for their child was progressing. Tony hadn’t known that doctors even really _used_ the word prognosis He’d assumed it was made up for TV and movies.

By the time they left, the two men were more comfortable with each other, and had more insight to the other. Which made it even more of a success than Tony had initially planned for it to be. They stopped and had lunch in a small but very nice restaurant, and then went to their hotel to change into more formal clothing for their first event of the gala.

As they walked across the lobby to the elevator, Tony made a point to put his hand on the small of Peter’s back, which made the younger man look up at him. Stark had smiled, and had leaned down and brushed a kiss against his ear – at the same time whispering that they were definitely in their roles now. Peter had smiled, as if in reply to something humorous whispered in his ear, and had touched Tony’s arm.

In the elevator, even though they were alone, Tony had kept his hand where it was, and Peter had sidled up against him, willingly.

“I had fun this morning,” he said to the older man as they entered the penthouse.

“Yeah? Me, too. You looked like a real doctor,” Tony added. “It was interesting.”

Peter smiled.

“You looked like a real superhero.”

“Must be doing something right, then.”

They both went into the bedroom, then, and changed out of jeans and polos and into suits. Not tuxedoes, but they were definitely intending to impress. Tony admired the way Peter’s suit looked on him, and ran his hands along the shirt – ostensibly to check the fit, even though it looked perfect.

“How do I look?” Peter asked, well aware that the suit he was wearing cost more than he’d make in a month as a server.

“You look incredible, honey.” Tony cupped his cheeks, and leaned in to brush a kiss against his forehead. “If you get cornered by someone that you don’t want to talk to, just look over at me and I’ll come rescue you.”

“Alright.”

“And make sure to keep an eye on me and save me if I do the same.”

The younger man nodded.

“I will.”

“I want you to find a few things that catch your fancy and bid on them,” Stark added. “Put my name, with your initials beside it, so I know it’s you.”

“Do I get to keep what I bid on?” He asked, jokingly. “Because I could spend a _lot_ of your money that way…”

Tony smiled, charmed.

“Do your worst. But don’t bid on the dates with the supermodels or things like that, because you aren’t the one that has to go; that’d be _me_. And I’m not interested in that kind of social scene, anymore.”

“Got it. Anything else I need to know?”

“Nope. Just remember that we’re intimate, and don’t forget to touch me, occasionally – and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t get startled if I come up behind you and put my arms around you, or something.”

The younger man smiled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

“What?”

Tony smiled.

“Kiss me, honey. Just to get the first real one out of the way, so it doesn’t look awkward out in front of the others.”

“Oh.” He definitely looked as if he hadn’t actually considered that to be part of the set up, and Tony almost expected him to call the whole thing off, then and there. “On the lips?”

“Yep.”

Peter cleared his throat, self-consciously, and then took Tony’s hand. He looked down at it while he stepped into the bigger man’s bubble. The first kiss wasn't Tony’s lips, however. Peter’s lips brushed the billionaire’s cheek, just at the line of neatly trimmed facial hair. Then his jaw, and then moved to the corner of his mouth. Tony groaned and turned his head, catching Peter’s kiss, and bringing his hand up to hold the younger man’s head still, deepening the kiss when Peter moaned, softly.

Tony’s tongue slid along Peter’s lower lip, demanding access, and Peter complied, his hands suddenly clutching the lapel of Tony’s suit jacket for support when his knees threatened to give way. The two kissed, teasing and tasting the other until Tony had to pull back to catch his breath, allowing Peter to pull back, as well.

“Holy fuck.”

Peter cleared his throat, again, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not.” Tony kissed him, again, sliding his tongue along the boy’s lips but not delving into his mouth when Peter almost automatically parted his lips for him. He slowly made a trail along Peter’s mouth, stopping occasionally to nibble on the boy’s lower lip, and eventually pulled back, again. “That’s amazing.”

Peter smiled, relieved that they’d done this away from other prying eyes.

“I’m an amazing guy, baby,” he said. “And a very good kisser.”

“No shit you are…” He smiled, too, his eyes warm. “Come on,” he said, forcing himself to step back. “Let’s go spend some money.”


	8. 8

The main room of the hotel convention center was set up for the silent auction. As Tony walked in (fashionably late) with Peter beside him, they looked around. Peter with interest, and Tony just to see who was already there and who might be missing. There were a score of tables lining three of the four walls. Each table had a person tending it and a monitor on the wall above the table with a description of what the items were that were being bid on at that particular table. If someone was interested in the item, they would write their name and their bid on the paper that was on the table, making sure to outbid whoever had come before them. At the end of the gala, those winners would be announced, and the monies would be donated to the charities listed.

It was a win-win-win.

Someone would get a prize, a charity would get desperately needed funds, and whoever had donated the item would get recognition among some of the wealthiest and most influential people on the planet.

“Wow…”

Tony looked down at Peter.

“Hmmm?”

“There are more people than I expected.”

“Getting cold feet?”

“I _always_ have cold feet,” Peter reminded him with a smile. “That’s why I wear fuzzy socks to bed.”

The billionaire smiled.

“You’re such a wiseass.”

That made Peter smile, as well.

“Sometimes.” He hooked his arm through Tony’s. “Come on, walk the circuit with me and show me what you want me to have you buy you for your birthday.”

“You’re keeping the ones you bid on,” Tony reminded him, tucking his hand on Peter’s and guiding him toward the closest table, while nodding a greeting to a few who were also heading that way. “Don’t forget. So you can pass on the marble statue, I suppose.”

Peter had been looking, too, and nodded his agreement.

“And the swimming pool installation. My downstairs neighbor might take issue with that.”

“Yeah. And if-“

“Tony…”

A smooth voice saying his name with just enough insincerity made both of them stop and turn before they headed toward the next table. Peter didn’t recognize the man with the young blonde woman walking beside him, but he could tell by the way Tony’s hand tightened on his own that the older man definitely did.

“Justin. Fancy meeting you here.”

The man made a broad gesture with his free arm.

“Where else would I be? This is where all the money is, right now – and all the people holding those purse strings.” He looked at Peter, his expression suddenly amused. “Who’s your friend, here? Your very _young_ and pretty friend?”

That hand tightened, again, at the implied insult to Peter.

“This is Peter. Peter, honey, this is Justin Hammer. I’ll understand if you don’t recognize the name.”

Hammer ignored the jab, and smiled.

“Where did you two meet?” he asked Peter, offering him his hand and a toothy smile. “At your daycare?”

Peter took the hand that was offered, shaking it, carefully. Tony had noticed by then that Peter was usually pretty careful with his hands. No surprise, he supposed.

“I just turned around one day and there he was. Gorgeous and unguarded. So I asked him out, and to my surprise, he said yes.” He looked at the blonde, turning away from the man, as inconsequential. “I’m Peter.”

“Angel,” she replied, taking Peter’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Angel is a model,” Hammer said, smirking at Stark, who also shook her hand.

“You didn’t need to tell me,” Tony replied. “I could have guessed all on my own.”

He winked at the woman and her smile broadened. Which made Hammer scowl.

“What do _you_ do, Peter?” he asked.

“I’m a doctor.”

Hammer looked surprised.

“ _You’re_ a doctor?”

“Peter’s in New York to do his residency,” he said, beaming as if he was the proud boyfriend he was pretending to be. “He’s going to be a heart surgeon.”

“My sister’s a brain surgeon,” Angel said, cheerfully. “So you must know the difference between a surgeon and God…”

Peter grinned, and nodded.

“Of course I do. God doesn’t get mistaken for a surgeon.”

Tony snorted, while Peter and the blonde both chuckled, but Hammer scowled.

“I don’t get it.”

Angel rolled her eyes.

“I’ll explain it to you, later, dear.”

“We should get moving,” Tony said – although he was clearly more enamored of Hammer’s date than he was of the man, himself. “Lots to see and do, after all.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Angel said to both of them.

“You, too,” Peter replied for both of them. “You’ll be here all weekend?”

“Probably.”

“She _will_ ,” Hammer said.

Tony turned Peter back the direction they were heading, and the younger man could see that he was in a very good mood.

“You don’t like him?”

“Not at all.” Tony was smug. “That little scene right there was worth the $100,000 I’m paying you. Thank you, very much.”

“You’re welcome. Does that mean I’m not needed, any longer?”

“Not at all.” Tony’s hand tightened in his. “I need you right here. With me.”

“You say the sweetest things, baby.”

They were both smiling when they moved on to the next table, and now Tony was so relaxed that Peter truly began to have a good time looking at all of the offerings that the auction had delivered. There were a wide variety, from goods and services to luxury items and even trips – as well as a couple of interactions with celebrities; lunch with a famous singer, and a dinner and a movie with an Oscar winning actress.

“You’re not interested in the Rolex?” Tony asked as they left that table without putting in a bid.

“No. While I’m doing my residency I’ll be up to my elbows in blood and goo. The last thing I’ll want is an expensive watch. When I’m a famous heart surgeon I’ll get a watch to match.”

He’d put a bid on the foreign sportscar, though, much to Tony’s amusement, but had pointed out that it wasn't something that he wanted, since he wouldn’t be able to afford the insurance payments – much less wanting to worry about it being stolen from his neighborhood.

“Is _goo_ an official medical term?” Tony asked him.

“I’m dumbing it down for you,” came Peter’s reply.

Which made Stark laugh, and lift Peter’s hand to his lips for a casual kiss.

“God, you’re cute.”

Peter blushed, slightly, at the compliment, and the approval in Tony’s eyes – which made the older man smile even more – and he definitely felt a twitch from somewhere near his crotch.

“Tony…”

They both turned – again. It wasn't new, by now, though, because Peter was finding that Stark was a popular addition to the silent auction. Everyone who had a reason to come up and talk to him was doing so. Some because they actually had something to say, but many who just wanted to be seen talking to him. This time it was a politician, and even Peter recognized him.

“Senator,” Tony said, politely, and introduced Peter.

The man was pleasant and polite in his greeting to Peter, but it was clear he wanted to talk to Stark.

“We have a little business that we need to discuss. I was hoping I could impose on you and take a little of your time, this afternoon?”

Tony looked annoyed, but he needed, turning to Peter.

“I have to talk to the senator,” he said to his young companion. “You’re invited, of course, but it’s going to be dull.”

The senator didn’t look as if he wanted Peter to be invited and the boy was tempted to come along, just to be annoying to the pompous man. Instead, though, he shook his head.

“I’ll pass. I’m going to go check on some of my bids, and then I think I might head back to the room.”

“I’ll meet you there, then. Make sure that porcelain elephant I bid on is still available…”

“I will, baby.”

Tony smiled, and then allowed the senator to hurry him off, and Peter turned his attention to the closest table, debating whether he wanted a genuine Picasso hanging in his apartment next to his dartboard, or not.

><><><><>

When Tony returned to the room much later, he found Peter on the sofa. The young man had changed out of his suit and was wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, similar to what he’d slept in. He was browsing his phone when Tony walked in, but smiled and put it away.

“Hey.”

Tony walked over, coming from behind and sliding his hands down Peter’s shoulders and then along his arms, so he could press a kiss against his cheek.

“Hey. I’m sorry it took so long. Politicians are such pains in my ass.”

“It’s alright. I haven’t been here, long.”

“You understand that dinner is _formal_ , right?” Tony asked, moving his hands back to Peter’s shoulders, massaging them. Mainly because he wanted an excuse to touch him, but the firm muscles did feel a little tense, and he liked the noise Peter made in response to what he was doing. “You’ll have to change into something a little less comfortable before we eat.”

Peter smiled, looking up at him.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to wrinkle my clothes.”

“Smart.” Still standing behind him, Tony ran his fingers through the young man’s hair, lightly. “Did you find anything interesting to bid on?”

“A few things. The car. That first edition Tom Sawyer. The shopping spree in Brooks Brothers.”

“Like you need any more suits.”

“True.” Peter leaned back against the sofa cushions, and reached up, catching Tony’s tie and pulling him down to kiss his chin. “But it was that or the trip to Spain, and that’s for two.”

“I’d go with you,” the billionaire told him, tilting his head up and peppering butterfly kisses along his cheek and then his lips, but not deepening it into something more serious. “You know, depending on how this weekend goes and if you’re not pissed off at me by the time it’s over…”

Peter smiled.

“It’s too late, now, I suppose. And Spain isn’t really on my bucket list.”

Ton kissed Peter’s ear, delighted when the boy shivered in response.

“Where _would_ you like to go?”

“London?” Peter said, a little distracted. “Japan, maybe. I’ll be too busy to really do much travelling for the next foreseeable future, so it doesn’t matter, right now.”

Tony had his face buried against Peter’s neck, but he was being careful not to leave any marks, even though his tongue was tasting the delicate skin there and his lips would occasionally catch skin between them. He didn’t want Peter bruised – although he definitely enjoyed the thought of leaving a few marks elsewhere.

Peter didn’t seem to mind the attention.

“Are you planning on moving back to Seattle when you’re finished? _Dr_. Parker?”

“Maybe.” He reached up and slid his palm along Tony’s cheek. “Or someplace else.”

“Japan?”

“No. They’re a fairly healthy people. Fortunate for _them_ , not so much for me or any other heart surgeon. Probably I’ll stay in the states. Living overseas doesn’t appeal to me.”

Tony was glad to hear that, even though it was crazy for him to care, and he knew it. It was years from now, after all. He moved his head and caught Peter’s lips with his own, his tongue darting into the younger man’s mouth and tasting him, there, now. Peter moaned into the invasion and Tony’s responding groan excited them both.

Peter finally pulled away, his eyes glazed and his cheeks flushed.

“If dinner is at six, I’d better get dressed.”

The billionaire slid his hand, almost possessively, under Peter’s shirt, feeling the muscles tense as he did.

“Or I could get _undressed_ …”

Peter smiled.

“If you want to go naked, that’s fine.”

Tony rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but he didn’t remove his hand, finding a nipple to slide his palm along, rolling the nub against his calloused fingers.

“I will if you will.”

“Not likely.”

Tony leaned over and kissed him, again, but there was less tension between them.

“Get dressed, honey,” he said. “But there isn’t any hurry.”

“Because you want to arrive late, again?”

“No. We’ll be on time, _this_ time. That way I’m unpredictable.”

“I’m learning so much from you.”

Stark smiled.

“Stick with me, Peter,” he told him, pompously. “I’ll teach you all about socializing with the 1%.”

“It might be a skill that I end up needing,” Peter said, agreeably, pulling away and getting to his feet, stretching. “You never know.”

“True.”

Tony followed as Peter walked into the bedroom. The suit that he’d been wearing that afternoon was hanging up where the young man had put it when he’d taken it off, but Tony sat down on the bed.

“A different suit for tonight, honey,” he said. “How about the black one?”

“The one I had on is still good to go.”

Tony smirked.

“It’s a mark of capitalism when you prove you can wear a different suit to each meal, or each meeting. Trust me.”

“I do.”


	9. 9

The dinner was in the same room that the silent auction had been held in. Now there were several tables in one section of the room – which had been expanded into a space twice as large by taking out a removeable wall that simply slid into the sides and vanished. Another side of the room was a bar, now, that was manned by several tenders, and there was a dance floor with a small, live, orchestra off to the side. No piped in music for this upscale event, Peter decided, looking around as he walked in with Tony.

It was a mark of just how prominent Stark was when they were met, immediately, and shown to a table that was near the dance floor. Peter found himself seated between Tony on his left and a very famous baseball player turned entrepreneur on his right – with Justin Hammer and Angel also at the table. The baseball player was friendly; standing to meet Tony, first, with a handshake and a smile, and then introducing himself to Peter and then introducing his wife, who was a beautiful woman, bedecked in jewels, but turned out to be far more down to earth than one might expect from someone married to sports royalty.

He sat down, and was grateful that he wasn't sitting near Hammer, who was knocking back shots and getting progressively louder and more obnoxious as they made their way through appetizers, then a salad, an entrée that was delicious and finally chocolate mousse for dessert. Angel was literally leaning away from the man, conversing with the wife of the baseball player about a mutual friend, and Hammer scowled and snapped his fingers at her, making everyone look that direction, instead of just her.

“Could you maybe pay attention to _me_?” he asked, nastily. “Since I’m the one you’re here with?”

“Could you maybe not be a dick?” Tony asked, him, before the blonde could reply. Peter wasn't surprised that Tony was fed up. He’d been feeling the tension from Stark all evening. Especially when Hammer would say something arrogant or rude to his companion. “She’s not your _property_. If she wants to talk to someone else, she can. Lord knows she isn’t getting any intelligent conversation from you.”

Hammer scowled.

“Fuck off, Stark. Go play doctor with your boytoy and mind your own business.”

Peter waited for the explosion, but Tony smirked. He loved making people mad, and loved making them look like an idiot, and Hammer was doing it all for him. As everyone watched, Tony got to his feet and moved around the table. He didn’t stop at Hammer, though, as was expected by everyone – including the man in question, who had started to get to his feet. Instead, he stopped at the blonde’s chair and offered her his hand.

“I’m sorry your date for the event turned out to be such an _ass_ , my dear. Would you care to spend the rest of the evening in the company of my boy toy and myself?”

Hammer stood up, now, his face red with fury.

“Are you out of your _fucking mind_?”

Stark leveled a glare at him, bringing Angel calmly to her feet and guiding her to a position that put her behind him – and away from reach of Hammer.

“Temper, Justin,” Tony said. “You’re _always_ losing your temper. That’s a serious failing in a businessman. People might think you’re a risk to work with. That maybe you’d do something crazy like… oh, I don’t know… build a bunch of drones and set them loose on an entire crowd of innocent civilians at an expo.”

The man looked as if he might throw a punch, but the gala was filled with security people, all dressed as sharply as those attending, and very much aware that they were needed. Two of them came up to stand on either side of Hammer.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” the smaller of the two asked.

A man who was easily bigger than Hammer, and straining the arms of his expensive suit with muscles bulging. Hammer scowled, but wasn't so drunk that he didn’t realize that he was already making himself look bad, and that the last thing he’d want is a YouTube video of him being forcibly detained by security at a fancy event such as this. Not to mention, he didn’t want to miss out on the chance to get some contracts if he could – and being kicked out wasn't going to make that happen.

“No,” he said, through gritted teeth. “No problem. We’re all good, here.”

They didn’t leave, though. They were far too well trained to not see the possibility for further escalation.

“Perhaps it’s time you called it a night, Mr. Hammer,” the bigger of the two suggested. “I’ll have a couple of my people help you to your room.”

“I don’t need help to my room.” He scowled, eyes narrowing when Stark smirked “I just need some fresh air. Angel? Coming?”

“Not on your life,” the young woman said, shaking her head. “The deal was that you act like a perfect gentleman, lay off the booze and treat me like a person and not a possession. My boyfriend’s not going to be happy when he finds out what happened.”

Hammer looked furious, but he turned on his heel and left without another word. The blonde turned to Tony, who was watching to make sure he actually left – along with the others.

“Thank you.”

The billionaire smiled, kindly.

“You’re welcome. Do you need us to help find you a room?”

She shook her head.

“No. I wasn't about to share a room with him. I’m just here to be a trophy.” She smirked. “Luckily, he paid me in advance, because he definitely isn’t getting it back.”

Peter laughed.

“Good for you.” He glanced over at Tony, amused, despite the scene that had just played out, and the older man rolled his eyes, knowing that Peter was silently asking if _he_ should have asked for his money in advance, too. “Do you need anything?”

“No.”

She shouldn’t be left alone, though, and the wife of the baseball player clearly thought the same thing, and offered to go with her to her room. Just in case she needed another woman to rant to. The baseball player stole a kiss from his wife and told her that if she needed him, he’d be at the bar. Drinking coffee, he added when she gave him a look.

Disaster averted – or maybe caused and enjoyed – Tony turned to Peter.

“Want to dance?”

“Yes.”

Stark reached for Peter’s hand, nodded goodbye to the others at the table and led Peter onto the dance floor, pulling him gently into his arms. There was a moment of awkward shuffling as they both tried to lead, and Peter snorted, softly, into Tony’s jacket and allowed himself to be guided around the floor. After a moment, it was a lot smoother, and he relaxed, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder.

“You were so good back there,” he murmured, making sure no one was close enough to hear.

“Because I’m _noble_ ,” the billionaire said, smiling, and resting his face in Peter’s hair. “And because I love to take Hammer down a peg or two whenever I can.”

“He did it himself.”

“Yeah.” Tony chuckled. “Imagine that, paying someone to come with him to the gala, just to look good.”

“Riiiight…” Peter drawled, amused. “Because that’d be _tacky_.”

“Exactly.” Tony kissed the top of Peter’s hair – just in case people were watching – and smiled. “It’s not like hiring someone to keep suitors away. That’s much different.”

Peter made a noise – amused, or agreement, it didn’t matter to Tony – and then leaned into his embrace and closed his eyes.

“If you say so.”

They could discuss Hammer and Angel another time; he loved to dance, and Tony was a perfect partner. He was going to enjoy himself that night.


	10. 10

They danced the entire evening, taking breaks when the mini orchestra did to allow Tony a chance to social network a bit. The billionaire was more and more amazed at his luck in his choice of Peter as the evening went on. The young man was intelligent and well spoken, charming and just shy enough that none of the famous or wealthy people that they spoke with were able to be standoffish with him. Which gave Tony an edge if he _wanted_ to talk to them. He was the perfect wingman for the brief conversations that Stark wanted to have with some of these people.

Peter seemed to be having a good time, and Tony was enjoying himself immensely. The baseball player’s wife returned to the dinner, assured Tony and Peter – and her husband – that Angel was fine, and then took Peter’s hand and asked him to dance with her, leaving Tony and her husband watching as Peter led her in a smooth dance around the floor a few times and then kissed her hand and returned her to her husband with a smile that made Tony feel gooey inside.

Finally, when the crowd of people had thinned, and the musicians were packing up their instruments, Tony asked Peter if he was ready to call it a night.

“Yes.” He put his arms around the larger man, though, in a spontaneous hug. “I had a good time, though. Thank you.”

“So did I,” Tony assured him, holding him close for a long moment before brushing a kiss against his cheek and releasing him so he could go tip the musicians. “Are you tired?” he asked, when he returned. “It’s nice out, and I wouldn’t say no to a quiet walk on the beach. I promise to keep you out of the water, so you don’t get eaten by a shark.”

He’d already told the younger man back during their get to know each other session that it was something he enjoyed. Peter smiled and nodded.

“Sounds good.”

It was nice out, but there was a definite breeze coming off the ocean, and Peter shivered in the face of even that gentle breeze as they started walking along the piece of the beach that separated the ocean from the deluxe hotel. There was a bright moon out, as well. Not full, but still reflecting plenty of light for them to see by, and Tony slipped his shoes off before they’d walked too far.

“You’re going to walk _barefoot_?” Peter asked, uncertainly.

“Yes. It’s a bitch trying to walk in shoes with no tread. You could, too, you know?”

“No.”

“Your feet will get cold?”

“Yes. _And_ I don’t want to step on something sharp and cut myself.”

Tony shook his head, wondering if Peter was cautious by nature, or if it was all the things that he’d seen people do to themselves in his years of learning how to be a doctor that made him so uncertain about his environment.

“They keep the beaches here clean,” he assured the young man. “And don’t allow glass bottles of any sort.”

“And, of course, everyone obeys those signs that are posted,” Peter said, sarcastically. He shook his head. “I’ll keep my shoes on.”

“Suit yourself.”

They were kept to the pace of Peter’s slower gait, but Tony didn’t mind. He held the boy’s hand, and then, when he realized that he was shivering, he put his arm around Peter, tucking him up against his side and making sure to use his larger body as a windbreak for him. He did offer to go back, but Peter said he was fine. _He_ was used to being cold, and it wasn't going to hurt him, or anything.

The surf was calming, and even though there were other people out walking, the darkness made it seem like they had the place to themselves. Tony told Peter about some of the smaller business deals that he was working on with a few of the people he’d been talking to that evening and earlier in the day during the silent auction, and was impressed when Peter actually tossed a couple of suggestions out about how they might be done better.

“Did you minor in business?” he asked, curiously, as they turned around and headed back toward the hotel.

Peter might _say_ that he was fine, but the shivering wasn't subsiding, and he was getting visions of the young man coming down with pneumonia and getting a first-hand view of the hospitals back home.

“No.” Peter shook his head, even though Tony felt it more than saw it. “My minor was pediatrics. Doctors almost never branch out into another field while in medical school. There’s just too much to learn to be a _doctor_. I didn’t have room in my head for anything else.”

“Going to be a pediatric heart surgeon?”

“I might. Some surgeries can be performed on babies in the womb that will solve an issue before they’re even born, and give them better chances of surviving.”

Tony was impressed and didn’t even bother to hide it.

“That’s incredible.”

“Well, it’s not flying around saving the universe,” the younger man said, squeezing Tony’s side to let him know he wasn't being a jerk. “But it’ll definitely have its moments.”

“You’re amazing.”

The compliment made Peter blush, but Tony couldn’t see it in the dark.

As they walked back to the more lighted area, Peter noticed that the older man’s gait wasn't as smooth, and every step he seemed to be leaning just a little heavier on Peter’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

There was a resigned sigh.

“No. I think I stepped on something back there a ways.”

Peter frowned, taking Tony’s arm and walking him to a picnic table that was under a convenient light post.

“Why didn’t you say something, sooner?”

Tony scowled, watching as the younger man pulled his sock off to get a better look.

“I didn’t want you to say I told you so.”

“You're pretty dumb for a guy who’s supposed to be a genius,” Peter said, annoyed with the man and not bothering to hide it.

He lifted the offending foot so he could see it better in the light.

“I’m not _dumb_ , at all,” Tony said. “Maybe a little stubborn…?”

“Stubborn?”

The billionaire scowled.

“How have they not taught you bedside manners, yet? I thought you doctors were supposed to be warm and caring?”

“We learn that right away,” Peter assured him, using the kerchief from his pocket to wipe any sand away that had seeped into Tony’s sock. “But we learn when it doesn’t apply, too. There isn’t much bleeding, and it looks like it’s pretty minor. We’ll get it cleaned off at the room and I’ll assess it further, there.”

“See? _Now_ you sound like a doctor.”

Peter chuckled and put the sock back on, and then put the man’s shoe on his foot, too.

“Lean on me if you need to.”

“Yeah.”

><<><><><>

“Well?”

“Hush. I’m concentrating.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but _he_ was concentrating, too. On Peter. The young man had him on the sofa, and was seated on the coffee table, with Tony’s injured foot in his lap, trying to get an idea of how much damage had been done.

“Is it going to fall off?”

“No.”

“Is there blood poisoning?”

“Not, yet.”

“Do I need stitches?”

Peter shook his head.

“No. It’s not too bad.” He had the first aid kit from the room sitting beside him on the coffee table, and he pulled out some wound cleaner, an alcohol pad and a few bandaids. “Hold still.”

“Don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not _going_ to hurt you.”

He cleaned the small cut, and then Tony hissed when he ran the alcohol pad along the wound and tried to jerk his foot back. Peter’s grip was firm, though.

“You said it wasn't going to hurt,” Stark complained. “Doctors always lie about that kind of thing.”

“It won’t hurt too long,” he promised. He looked at the cut, again, tilting the foot up so he could see it. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Probably last year.”

“Are you going to shower, tonight?”

“I had planned on it.”

“Go take your shower, and then I’ll dry it and we’ll bandage it.”

No sense doing it and then letting it all get wet, after all.

“Shouldn’t you come with me?” Stark asked, taking his foot out of Peter’s hand. “You know, to keep me from falling down?”

Peter smiled, reddening just a little at the thought of joining him in the shower.

“I think you’ll be fine. Don’t dawdle.”

The older man grumbled, but did as he was told.

While he was gone, Peter took off his suit jacket and his tie, and then his shoes, dumping copious amounts of sand out of them as he did. He heard the water shut off, and a resumed his seat on the coffee table as it was the easiest place to do the bandaging. Tony returned wearing a robe and limping just a little dramatically, as he sat back down on the sofa, giving his foot back to Peter almost reluctantly.

“No more of the alcohol stuff.”

Peter looked at the foot, trying to ignore the fact that he had an interesting angle to see all along Tony’s leg, and into the robe that was open, just a little at the bottom. The older man hadn’t put anything else on after his shower.

“It’s clean,” he assured him. He dried the foot, carefully, and then threw a few bandaids on the cut. “Better?”

Tony was watching him, intently, his eyes dark.

“Perfect. You do good work, doctor.”

Peter smiled.

“I’ll send you my bill.”

“You do that. I’ll pay whatever it is.”


	11. 11

The younger man moved forward, coming between Tony’s legs and leaning over him to kiss him. Tony was a little surprised, but not looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, His hand went to Peter’s hair, taking a careful handful and holding him still while he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding along Peter’s lip, and then into his mouth to taste him and tease him. Peter moaned approvingly, and his hand slid into the robe to slide along Tony’s chest, admiring the muscles that tensed under his touch.

He smiled when he finally pulled away, breathless, his hand now braced on Tony’s sternum.

“That was nice.”

“That’s _one_ word for it,” Tony agreed. He looked down at Peter, his hand following his eyes and caressing the front of the boy’s shirt. “Kiss me, again.”

“No.” Peter did, though; leaning over and pressing soft kisses against his cheek, jaw and lips, but not opening his mouth when Tony’s tongue sought entrance. He finally pulled back, and his smile was warm. “I’m going to go take a shower. I’m _cold_.”

“I can join you…”

He shook his head, again.

“I just got your foot clean and dry. You’re _not_ getting it wet, again.”

Tony growled.

“That’s not fair.”

“Then you should have listened to me about keeping your shoes on, shouldn’t you have?”

The billionaire’s scowl was thunderous – but his eyes were amused.

“You just said I told you so…”

“Because you _deserve_ it.” Peter straightened up, ignoring Tony’s erection, which was obvious where it was distorting the robe. “Go to bed, baby.”

Stark did as he was told, shaking his head at being bossed around by a twenty-four-year-old boy who looked much younger than that, even. Maybe it was that authority that he seemed to have? It was probably a _doctor_ thing, he decided. They were used to giving orders, after all, in emergencies – Peter had completely taken control, and Tony had only cut his foot, a little. It was probably taught to them in premed 101, or something.

“Right before bedside manners…” he grumbled, walking into the bedroom.

He saw Peter’s slacks and shirt and boxers hanging over the back of a chair and heard the water in the shower turn on. It wasn't the only thing turned on, though, Tony thought, amused, as he walked to the dresser to find some underwear. He was nicely aroused, but he reluctantly pulled the boxers on, respecting the fact that while he and Peter were doing some very heavy flirting and the kisses were sensual, it could just be part of the act that Peter was giving.

He had promised to stay on his side of the bed, and he’d try very hard to keep that promise.

Point in fact, he was on his side of the bed when Peter came out of the bathroom. The younger man’s hair was still somewhat damp, and he was shirtless – although he had dressed in sweats and those fuzzy socks that he seemed to love so much. Tony looked up from his tablet to watch him walk over, admiring his lean muscular frame, and the alabaster skin that was only marred by the jagged scarring. Probably didn’t take his shirt off outside, too often, Tony decided. Not because he was self-conscious of the scarring, but to avoid the reactions that people probably had.

Stark set the tablet aside and pulled the blankets back for him.

“Better?” he asked, smelling the mint of Peter’s toothpaste.

The young man nodded, getting under the blankets and tucking them up and around his shoulder, but turning his body so he was looking at Tony. He was already shivering.

“I use a lot of hot water at home,” he admitted. “It’s a good thing it’s not charged, separately, or I’d never be able to afford the electricity bill.”

Tony smiled at that.

“It seems to be the best way to warm up, quickly.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’ll go up to the roof and soak up sun on warm days. Like a cat basking on a rock, or something.”

Tony reached over and turned off the light.

“I bet it feels good.”

“Yes.”

Peter was quiet for a long moment, and then he shifted, moving to settle himself against Tony’s side. A hand came to rest on the older man’s chest, but slide down when Tony rolled himself onto his side so he could look at him in the muted light of the arc reactor.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. It’s okay?”

“Of course it is.” He bent his head and kissed Peter’s nose. “I don’t want to wake up next to a popsicle.”

He put an arm around Peter’s lithe body, pulling him just a little closer, and sighed, contentedly. It was nice, and the younger man fit into him just perfectly.

He was so relaxed that he’d almost dozed off when he felt Peter move in his embrace. Soft, tentative kisses were brushing against his chest, and a hand was suddenly moving slowly down Tony’s side, to his hip, stopping at the waistband of his boxers.

Tony tensed, but held himself rigidly still, and he sighed when Peter’s lips found a nipple and drew it into his mouth.

“That feels good,” he whispered, softly.

Peter didn’t reply, immediately. His mouth teased Tony’s nipple, suckling it, licking it and then backing off so he could blow on it, making the nub hard. He couldn’t reach the other one in the position they were in, so instead, he allowed his lips to roam upward, leaving a moist trail of goosebumps along Tony’s neck, and jaw line.

The hand on his side slid under his boxers and along Tony’s rear.

“Peter…” Tony whispered, lifting his jaw to give the boy better access. “Are you going to seduce me?”

There was a soft chuckle somewhere near his ear.

“I was thinking about it… Interested?”

“Not yet… keep trying, though. Maybe something will come up.”

Peter’s hand continued to move on Tony’s rear, squeezing the flesh there in time with the kisses he was planting on Tony’s neck and jaw. The older man gasped, realizing belatedly that he was holding his breath, and that drew another chuckle in the dark when Peter figured out what had happened.

“Breathe, Tony,” he murmured, sitting up a little and pushing Stark’s shoulder to roll him onto his back.

“I’m good.”

Peter slid his leg over Tony’s stomach, straddling him, now, and Tony brought his hand up to run it along the younger man’s chest, teasing his nipples, as well, before he brought it down to Peter’s stomach, feeling the rough edge of the scar in contrast to the smoother skin of the rest of him.

“You _are_ good,” Peter agreed. He shifted back a bit, taking his stomach out of Tony’s reach, but there was no indication that he didn’t like being touched on his scars. Rather, he moved so that he was straddling Tony’s upper thighs, not at all worried about hurting him with his negligible weight, and giving himself access to the tent in Stark’s boxers. “Is there anything that you don’t like?” he asked, sliding his fingers along Tony’s length and clearly enjoying the expression on the older man’s face when he did. “Something that would make you run away, screaming that I’m a _pervert_ …?”

Tony chuckled.

“No, honey. Do whatever you want. Just don’t tease me – and _don’t_ say I told you so.”

Peter nodded, looked down and fished Tony’s cock out of his boxers without bothering to move so he could pull them down. He stroked him, watching Tony’s reaction to the motion, and pushed the front of his own sweats down to he could free his cock, as well. Tony saw that he was just as hard. He reached out, moving Peter’s hand aside – still stroking him – and took hold of Peter. His cock was smaller, and not as thick, but it fit his hand perfectly.

“Yes…” Peter whispered, closing his eyes and savoring the contact. “Just like that, daddy...”

Stark’s hand stilled.

“Tell me you just called me daddy…”

Peter scowled, bringing his free hand up to cover Tony’s and manipulate it so it was still caressing him, making his desires clear.

“Did I? I don’t remember.”

“You _did_ …” They both felt Tony’s cock twitch in Peter’s grasp. “You have a daddy kink?”

“Yes. You don’t need to reciprocate, though,” he assured him. “I know you like honey, and truthfully, I do, too. I’d rather not have you call me baby in front of others. There’s too much of a connotation to a sugar daddy relationship – and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I can understand…” the boy was going to be a _heart surgeon_. He was doing it all on his own, too, with absolutely no help from his new-found friend Anthony Edward Stark. No sense making the public believe otherwise. “I could call you baby in the bedroom and honey in public…”

“You’d do that?”

“To clarify… _I’m_ the daddy, right?”


	12. 12

Peter smiled.

“Yes.”

_He_ was much too small to be the daddy, really.

Tony watched Peter, all the while stroking his pretty cock.

“So, as the _daddy,_ I get to be in charge?”

“To a point.”

“Good. Because I definitely have a control and dominating kink that you should probably be aware of.”

Peter smiled, and Tony thought the shudder that went through his frame probably didn’t have much to do with the temperature of the room.

“I like that thought.”

“Get naked, baby. Daddy wants to play with your ass.”

The young man only hesitated long enough to reach into the pocket of his sweats. He pulled a small pack of lube and a foil-wrapped condom out, handing them to Tony, who rolled his eyes, but accepted Peter’s limitations without complaint – or comment. Stupid doctor, wanting to play safely. The billionaire _much_ preferred bareback, and the sensation of emptying himself into his partner at will. But he wasn't going to argue, and he supposed with his reputation, Peter was being practical. Little did the boy know just how long it had been for him.

He’d find out, though, Tony thought, hungrily, watching as Peter pulled his sweats and boxers down and off and started to rejoin him on the bed.

“Now me, baby.”

Peter pulled Tony’s underwear down, stopping long enough to press a kiss to the head of his cock, which produced a pleased noise deep in the older man’s chest. The boxers hit the floor and Peter joined Tony on the bed, once more, watching to see if he had a preference for positioning.

Tony set the condom and lube on the nightstand and sat up, bringing Peter in for a kiss. A long, sensual kiss that was only punctuated by the younger man’s trembling.

“Is that reaction, or cold?” he asked, pulling back, and peppering kisses along Peter’s jaw and neck.

“Both. I’m _fine_ , though.”

He’d know best, Tony decided. He kissed him, again, his hands roaming the firm body that was pressing against him so perfectly. His big hands found the globes of Peter’s ass, and he kneaded them, spreading them and then not, allowing his fingers to slide along the crack as his tongue played with Peter’s in another long kiss.

“Daddy’s baby boy…” he whispered, softly, pulling back, finally.

“Yes, daddy…”

Tony’s cock twitched, again, in response to the softly uttered words, and he pushed Peter backward, following him and keeping his body between the younger man’s legs so they were open. His cock pressed against that hard, flat stomach, and Tony rutted against the muscles of Peter’s abdomen as he kissed him again, but then began working his way lower.

His chest, his nipples, then to trail his tongue along the scar that started up high on the shoulder but wound down along his belly and then his hip. Peter moaned, and Tony decided that the tissue there must be sensitive, despite the age of the scar. When he reached then spot along his hip where it ended, Tony nipped it, gently, and Peter arched his back a little in response.

“Jesus.”

“Hurts?” Tony asked, huskily.

Just to make sure.

“No. It’s good.”

Tony’s reply was another nibble followed by a soft kiss, but Peter’s cock was right by his cheek, now, and far too tempting to be ignored. The billionaire turned his head and caught the throbbing member in his mouth, and Peter trembled harder and let out another soft moan. Taking that as an indication that Peter was fine with oral, Tony busied himself with his task, sucking the head, and then lowering to pull the shaft into his mouth as well, before bringing his head up and focusing on the head, once more. He caught Peter’s gaze, and locked eyes with those pretty brown orbs as he deepthroated him, again.

“Daddy… _Yes_ …”

Tony continued to suck the young man until Peter’s hips were jerking almost uncontrollably. He gave a cry when Tony’s hand found his testicles and squeezed them, and startled himself by climaxing almost without warning. There was a pleased noise from Tony, who swallowed him, eagerly. _He_ hadn’t been surprised. Peter’s cock and tensed against his tongue and he imagined that he could feel the cum rushing up and out of the younger man’s testicles.

Only when he was drained did Tony lift his head from his feast, and he caught Peter’s eyes, again, amused at just how dazed the boy looked.

“You taste delicious, baby,” he murmured, moving back so he could roll him over onto his belly. “Let’s have a taste of your ass, too.”

Peter went, willingly, and looked back at Tony, who was nudging the boy’s knees apart so he could kneel behind him. The billionaire took his time as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against one globe, and then the other, and then parted them and bared Peter’s tiny puckered hole to him. Tony felt his cock twitch, eagerly, but he wanted to enjoy it – and he wanted _Peter_ to, as well.

His tongue delved into that hole and the younger man jumped, driving his rear back against Tony’s mouth. Using a lot of saliva, Tony lavished Peter’s ass with his attention, while the boy buried his face into the bedding, giving himself up to the older man. He groaned when Tony’s slid a finger into him, testing him, and Tony stopped what he was doing just long enough to pick up the lube. Peter writhed, impatiently, but Tony was in charge, now.

“Steady, baby,” he said, gentling him. “It’s coming…”

Well lubed, now, the finger was once more inserted into him, and Tony nibbled on Peter’s ass as he began playing with him, loosening him even further. Another finger joined the first and Peter tensed. Not in discomfort, though, Tony decided, as he started stretching him from the inside. He was impatient, now, to feel those tight walls around his cock, squeezing him in the best of ways.

“Daddy…” Peter moaned, his voice muffled by the bedding. “Please…”

“Shit.”

Tony reached for condom, tearing the foil with his teeth and rolling it onto his cock. He lubed himself, liberally, and nudged the head of his cock against Peter’s hole.

“Yes.”

Accepting that as all the permission he needed, Tony pressed forward, forcing himself into the younger man, slowly but steadily. He ended up covering Peter like a blanket as he did, which was probably just as well, considering how his baby was trembling, but in only a few moments he was buried deep inside him, and held still, enjoying the sensation – which was as good as he’d known it would be.

“You’re so pretty, baby…” he crooned in Peter’s ear, kissing it. “Daddy’s boy. Getting himself fucked by me. Taking what daddy has to give you and being so obedient. Aren't you?”

He was more than willing to play to Peter’s kink. Besides, it went well with his own need to dominate.

Peter whined, but he turned his head to kiss Tony as well as he could.

“Yes, daddy,” he moaned.

“Mmm…” Tony kept his face where it was, whispering dirty sweet talk to the boy as he started to fuck him, slowly at first, but soon with more force, as his thrusts became demanding, driving his cock deep with every motion.

“Take it, baby,” he grunted, finally, as he climaxed, and Peter arched back into that final hard thrust with a sound that made Tony’s cock twitch even more.

Jesus, the kid was _delicious_.

He collapsed on top of Peter, his heart thundering in his chest as he made a few more thrusts, far gentler, but still as demanding.

“Fuck,” Peter murmured, reaching up and behind him to catch Tony’s hair and pull him down for another kiss. “You’re pretty good at that.”

Tony chuckled, breathlessly, and pulled himself reluctantly out of Peter’s ass. He took care of the condom, and then gathered Peter up against him with one arm and the blankets up and over them with the other. The kid was already shivering, and he didn’t want him to catch a cold – despite the reassurances that Peter had given him about that possibility.

“You are, too, honey,” he told him. “Jesus.”

Peter curled against him, shivering, but nothing like before. His head was tucked under Tony’s chin, and one hand was caressing the billionaire’s hip. The motions were relaxed, and unhurried.

“Thanks. I needed that.”

“So you _were_ planning on seducing me, weren’t you?” Tony asked, amused.

One didn’t carry lube and a condom to bed if they weren’t intending to use them, after all.

“I wanted to be ready,” Peter admitted. “Just in case things were going well.”

“I’d say they went well.”

“M-hmm.” It was a sleepy sound. “I agree.”

“We didn’t _really_ need the condom. I’m clean.”

“Safety first… Besides, what if you got me pregnant? How would you explain that to Miss Potts?”

Tony chuckled and kissed the top of his hair, and then tucked the blankets carefully around the other side of the young man. He was feeling that comforting lassitude spreading through him and knew he was going to fall asleep – and Peter was clearly well on his way to doing that, also.

“Go to sleep, little boy,” he whispered.

“M-kay…”

“But tell me you have more than one condom…”

Just in case.

A tired chuckle.

“In my sweat’s pocket.”

“Good.”

He dozed off, but Peter had already fallen asleep in his arms.


	13. 13

“What is the plan for today?” Peter asked as they ate breakfast the next morning.

Tony finished chewing the bite he’d taken to clear his mouth.

“ _My_ plan is that Pepper is flying in around 11 o’clock and we start meeting with some of these people that I’ve been talking to the last day or so. You’re not needed for those talks, so _you_ get to enjoy yourself, and do whatever catches your fancy.”

The younger man smiled.

“And if I wanted to do _you_?”

Stark snorted, amused. And tempted, even though he was pretty sure nothing Peter could do to him, just then, could get a rise out of his aching penis. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, and Peter had woken Tony only a few hours later with a condom in his hand and an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. Tony had responded, predictably, and they made love, again, this time with Peter on his back and Tony’s face buried between his neck and shoulder as he drove into the boy with just as much ardor as their first time.

Then, another round when they’d woken that morning with their room bright and sunny. After that, utterly satiated, Tony had pulled Peter into the shower, ignoring his protests about getting the bandaids on his foot wet, and had spent several long minutes washing both of them, thoroughly.

Now, dried and dressed, they were enjoying breakfast – room service instead of going out – and spending some less physical time together.

Still nice, much less _sweaty_.

“You’ll have to wait,” Tony said, reluctantly. “It looks like it’s going to be a nice day. You could go soak up some of that sunshine you were talking about.”

“I might do that. You won’t need me for anything?”

“I wish I did,” Stark assured him. “Business meetings tend to be fairly secretive – at least at the beginning, and if it’s involving a big company like mine. Otherwise there might be a run on stocks and rumors of insider trading. So as much as I _want_ you to be with me, it’d be more comfortable to the rest of the attendees if you weren’t there.”

“I can understand that,” Peter said. He thought it was nice of the billionaire to explain, in order that he not feel like he was being excluded for some other reason – but it hadn’t been necessary. “But I have you until Miss Potts arrives?”

“Definitely. She won’t let me near actual negotiations unless she’s around to supervise.”

Peter smiled at that.

“We could go for a walk, then. If your foot isn’t bothering you, too much.”

“That sounds great.”

Any time with him sounded great, really. He was going to be sorry when the weekend ended, that was for certain.

><><><>

“Where’s Peter?”

Tony scowled.

“Hey Pepper. I’m doing well, thank you.”

She smirked.

“Hello, Tony. How are you doing? Where’s _Peter_? Did you run him off, already?”

“I didn’t _run him off_ , at all.” He offered her his hand to help her out of the limo, and she stepped out, looking amazing, as always – even though she was dressed casually for her flight down. “He’s off soaking up the Florida sunshine on the sandy beaches.”

They’d walked on the same beach after eating and had simply enjoyed the fresh air and the sea breeze. It was a beautiful day; warm enough that Peter wasn't even shivering. Which hadn’t stopped Tony from putting an arm around him, anyway. Then Tony had received word that Pepper’s flight had landed at the private airfield, and had gone to change to meet her, leaving Peter at the poolside – since the dork refused to entertain the notion of swimming in the ocean.

“How is everything going?” Pepper asked. “Tell me good things.”

“We had a good time at the auction, and the dinner went well, I-“

“About the _contacts you’ve made_ ,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Tell me good things about the business conversations we’re going to be having, this afternoon.”

He gave her a smile as they headed toward the lobby of the hotel, the staff following at a respectful distance to see what she might need. She was already checked in – Tony had taken care of it for her – so it was simply a matter of getting her minimal baggage to her room and getting her up to speed on who they were going to be talking to, first.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” he promised. “But let me tell you what _Justin Hammer_ did last night, first.”

By the time they reached her suite, which was several floors below Stark’s, she was chuckling, torn between amusement and maybe even a little glee. Hammer and she had never gotten along, of course, so she wasn't at all sympathetic to the man’s plight.

“And his _date_?”

“You mean the one that has a boyfriend – _and_ her own room in the hotel? She’s fine. Cynthia went up and checked on her, and told us she’s good.”

“Poor thing.”

Tony smiled.

“Poor _Hammer_ , is more like it. He’s going to find himself squaring off against her boyfriend, from the sound of it.”

Of course, the man had a bodyguard, so nothing would come of it, but the thought that he was going to have to be watching over his shoulder amused them both.

“Did he leave?”

“He can’t,” Tony said, regretfully. “He has contacts that he’s making here, too, and needs the contracts. I imagine he’ll keep his head down, though, and not try to draw too much attention to himself.”

“That would be the _smart_ thing to do,” Pepper agreed. “Let me change into something more professional, and we’ll get started with our own contacts.”

“Sure.”

><><><<>

“Why are you wearing a long-sleeved shirt at the poolside?”

Peter had been dozing, basking in the warm sun and enjoying the fact that he was truly warm. He opened his eyes, and was somewhat surprised to see Justin Hammer standing by the lounge chair he was reclining in. The man was wearing shorts, only, and his body was bronzed and gleaming with some kind of oil.

The young man wondered if it was sunscreen, or if he had done it to look good – like wrestlers on TV, and body builders.

“Because I don’t want to get _skin cancer_ ,” he replied. “You might put a shirt on, too.”

Really, he just didn’t want to get a _sunburn_. Peter was well aware that his pale skin would fry in a matter of minutes in the blasting Florida sun. He didn’t _need_ to be a doctor to know that.

“Where’s Stark?”

“No clue.”

The man sat down in the chair beside Peter’s and gave him what the younger man supposed was supposed to be a charming smile. It made him look like a shark, though, Peter decided.

“We got off on the wrong foot, last night, Peter,” he said, smoothly. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m not the one you should apologize to,” Peter pointed out. “You didn’t do anything to me.”

“Yeah, but I made myself look like an ass, and I didn’t want you to think that that was the kind of person I am.”

“No worries.”

Peter closed his eyes, but Hammer wasn't finished.

“I was wondering if I could buy you lunch?”

The boy opened his eyes, again, and frowned.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why not? We could get to know each other. You could find out what makes me tick. I’m pretty wealthy, you know, and I imagine medical school wasn't cheap. We-“

“Seriously?” Peter interrupted. “You’re _propositioning_ me?”

“ _What_? No. Well… Stark’s good looking, I’ll give him that, but he’s not half the man that I am. I think a young man of your intelligence and brains should have more options.”

“Options like _you_?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Don’t be so hasty,” Hammer said, not at all ready to give up. He reached out and put his hand on Peter’s leg, which was covered by a pair of slacks, but still made the boy’s skin crawl at the touch. “We could be friends.”

“You _know_ I’m a doctor, right?”

“Yes. So?”

“If you don’t move your hand, I’m going to cut it off.”

Hammer jerked his hand back.

“What does that have to do with being a doctor?”

“I could sew it back on, later. Maybe.”

“You’re seriously _rejecting_ me?”

“Seriously rejecting you,” Peter agreed, closing his eyes. “Get lost before I call security.”

The mogul scowled, clearly not anticipating the turn of events. He started to say something, but then got up and left in a huff. Peter waited a few minutes and opened his eyes, again, to verify what his ears had told him, and then shook his head.

Rich people were crazy. When he became a rich and famous heart surgeon, he was going to have to remember that. He closed his eyes and went back to dozing, thinking of Tony, and that maybe all rich people weren’t crazy.

But maybe.


	14. 14

“ _Ouch_ …”

Peter smiled, a little self-consciously, bringing his hand up to touch his cheek, gingerly.

“Yeah.”

“They have this stuff called _sunscreen_ …”

“Which I used a copious amount of, I assure you.”

“And you _still_ burned that badly?”

“So it would seem.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile, despite the fact that his young companion’s face was as red as a perfectly cooked lobster.

“Did you put something on it?”

“Yes.”

“Does it _hurt_?”

“Yes.”

Stark reached out and pulled Peter’s shirt up, curiously, but his chest and belly were still pale.

“I wore a _shirt_ ,” Peter confirmed. “Luckily.”

“Poor baby…” He dropped the shirt and carefully kissed him, feeling the warmth coming off Peter’s face when he leaned in. “What can I do for it?”

“I was just going to put a cool, wet cloth on it and lie still for a while. How were your meetings?”

“Went off without a hitch. Of course.” He took Peter’s hand and led him over to the sofa and pushed him down into the fine leather. “I’ll get you a towel for your face.”

“Thank you.”

Tony disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a damp cloth. He didn’t give it to Peter when the younger man reached for it, though, instead sitting beside him and guiding his head down into his lap before he covered his face with it.

“Should have opted for something _indoors_ , huh?”

“Yeah.” His voice was only slightly muffled by the towel. “I ran into Justin Hammer.”

Stark scowled, pulling the towel off so he could look at Peter – as if to make sure he was alright.

“You ran into him?”

“Well, no. He came and sat down beside me when I was at the pool.”

Peter repeated the conversation, verbatim, and Tony shook his head.

“What an ass. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you, again.”

“It’s fine.” Peter closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the position and the pampering. “I’m _used_ to pompous assholes trying to have their way with me.”

The way he said it made Tony roll his eyes. The smug grin on the boy’s face was adorable, though.

“I’m not _pompous_ ,” he pointed out. “And for the record; _you_ seduced me, as I recall.”

_“Whaaat?”_

The billionaire chuckled, and covered Peter’s face, again.

“Get some rest, honey. The cocktail party starts in a couple of hours.”

><><><><<>

“Jesus…”

Peter hesitated, looking uncertain.

“That bad?” He’d looked in the mirror a dozen times and thought he looked pretty good, really. The tux was perfect. His hair was perfect, and his face was still red, but the cool towel had leeched a lot of the pain and it wasn't close to being as bad as it had been. “I’ve never worn a _tux_ , before…”

Maybe he had something on backward?

“You look _amazing_ , baby,” Tony assured him, leaning against the back of the sofa. He smiled at the look of relief on the younger man’s face. “So hot and sexy. Come here so I can fix your bowtie.”

Peter smiled, prettily, and presented himself in front of Tony. If he blushed in pleasure at the term of endearment – and the fact that Tony knew he had the daddy kink – his face was too red to show it. Stark straightened the tie, and leaned down and kissed him, softly. Before he could say anything else, though, there was a knock on the door of the penthouse and the billionaire scowled.

“I’ll get that,” Peter told him.

He walked over to the door and opened it, revealing Pepper Potts, who looked startled for just a moment, and then smiled.

“Peter. You look _incredible_.”

Now the younger man’s blush was evident in the tips of his ears.

“Thank you, Miss Potts. You look great.”

She did, too. A cocktail dress in blue, that fit her slim form, perfectly, showing off her curves without being scandalous, and sandals that had heels that Peter was certain could be used to stab someone if need be.

“You're sweet to say it,” she replied, pleased. “Thank you.”

“I look incredible, too, right?” Tony asked, walking over.

His tuxedo was just as impressive, if not more, since he had more age and maturity to go along with it. Tony looked dignified in his. Peter looked handsome.

Pepper shrugged, pretending nonchalance – even though he really did look good. Like she’d stoke his ego if it wasn't needed?

“You look like you’re going to be serving the canapes.”

Peter snorted, amused, and Tony scowled at his young lover.

“Don’t _encourage_ her.”

“Sorry.”

He didn’t _look_ too sorry, though, Tony decided.

“Do you have anything that will cover his sunburn?”

Pepper shook her head, looking Peter over.

“I think he looks perfect. It proves that he’s a real human being. Something that doesn’t get associated with you very often, really. He’ll make you look more approachable.”

“I don’t _want_ to be approached.”

She rolled her eyes, looking at Peter.

“See what I have to deal with?”

“Yeah. He’s a bit of a smart ass, sometimes, isn’t he?”

“You guys can’t be talking about me like I’m not here…” Stark told them, pretending to be annoyed, although he wasn't. “I have _feelings_ , too, you know.”

Neither was fooled.

“Do I walk away when someone comes up that you need to talk to in private?” Peter asked them, still smiling.

“No. You can stay right beside me all night,” Tony assured him. “No one is going to want to talk business at the final cocktail party. It’s just a last chance to network, and to show off.”

Besides, _this_ would be the time the interested women would be trying to get him alone. To take advantage of the last night to take him to their beds and show him just what he’d be getting if he chose them. Tony knew who he wanted to bed that night, and his bright red face was close enough to touch – although he didn’t.

><><><>

They walked down together, joined at the elevator by Pepper’s date. The man was introduced to Peter as Tom, and he was an art dealer. He smiled, politely, when he was introduced to Peter, and couldn’t hide his surprise when Tony pointed out that Peter was a doctor.

“That’s impressive.”

Peter smiled, but Tony beamed as if he truly was the proud boyfriend that he was pretending to be.

“Peter’s an impressive guy.”

The final cocktail party of the gala was in full swing by the time the four arrived, and Pepper and her date immediately separated from Tony and Peter. To work the room, better, Tony explained. A server came by with a tray of drinks and they both took a glass as a couple walked up, ready to socialize with Tony, and commiserating with Peter on his sunburned face.

When they had finished their small talk, a single woman came over, looking hopefully at Tony while at the same time sizing Peter up. The younger man smiled at the introductions, amused when he felt Tony pull him almost imperceptibly closer to his side as he brushed a kiss again his temple. The woman made a few not so subtle suggestions about her and Tony going for a walk on the beach, and he shook his head, explaining that he’d been walking just the night before and had actually cut his foot on something buried in the sand.

He was done walking on the beach, for now.

She took the hint and left, and Tony smirked.

“That, right there, was worth $100,000.”

Peter shook his head.

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

He was having a good time, though, and would almost be sorry when the weekend was finished.

“We-“

Whatever Tony was about to say was interrupted by the MC of the gala, who had picked up a microphone and was asking for everyone’s attention. He started off by announcing how much money had been raised for the local charities; a staggering number, as far as Peter was concerned. Then, with a screen coming on over his shoulder, he started announcing the winners of the silent auction items.

This list was long, and took a while, and Tony raised an eyebrow at some of the items that _he’d_ won. Many items that he hadn’t bid on, but Peter obviously had. A new sportscar – which Peter declined when Tony offered it to him, pointing out that he didn’t live in a nice neighborhood and wouldn’t be able to afford the insurance on the thing until he was making heart surgeon money, anyway. Several memberships to various museums, and city theaters, a Picasso that Tony had bid on, personally, and maid service for a year.

Peter looked especially pleased by that one, and Tony just rolled his eyes.

“Tired of doing your own dishes?”

“It’ll be nice to not have to vacuum.”

The next one announced made Tony frown, once more.

“You bid on season tickets to the Yankees?”

Peter smiled, looking cheerful.

“You don’t like baseball?”

“Sure.”

No.

“I checked the schedule,” the younger man told him, not at all fooled. “They’re playing the Mariners in two series. I’d like those tickets, please? You can do whatever you want with the others.”

“Do I even want to know who the _Mariners_ are?”

“It’s Seattle’s baseball team,” came the answer from behind Peter. They both looked at the voice, and watched as Justin Hammer walked toward them, dressed smartly in a tuxedo, with a hulking bodyguard behind him, and carrying a drink. Obviously not the first, considering the way he was walking and slurring the words he’d already spoken. “If you’re going to date him, Stark, then maybe you should know more about the things that he enjoys.”


	15. 15

“How does it look?”

In a room filled with rich and famous people, it wasn't surprising that there were more doctors than Peter in attendance. Several of them stepped forward once the ruckus had been cleared, and the brawlers (there really wasn't a better word for it, truth be told) had been separated. Hammer was a bloody mess; his eye was swelling shut and he was holding a cloth against his bleeding nose under the careful watch of one of the doctors (a _cardiologist_ , but oh well) and several of the security people.

Tony was sporting a cut lip that was swelling, but he didn’t even notice – and ignored the icepack that another doctor was trying to hand him. His primary focus was Peter, who was in a chair holding his left hand in his lap while another doctor – this one a world famous orthopedic surgeon – was examining it. The young man had been holding his wineglass when he’d been knocked down by the security people trying to get to Hammer, and someone had stepped on his hand. Not only had the glass broken, cutting the young man’s hand, but the way he’d been holding it made Tony wonder if there was more wrong than just the cut – which was bad enough.

_Especially_ for a doctor.

“It’s almost certainly broken,” the doctor said to Tony, smiling gently down at Peter, who was looking frightened. “Don’t worry; it isn’t mangled. You’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s my specialty,” the much older man reminded him. “You probably won’t even need surgery. Any good ortho man can set the bones and any moron with a medical degree can stitch it. For such a promising heart surgeon, however, I’ll go with you to the hospital and make sure they have both before I turn you over to their care.”

“Can I go, too?” Tony asked, just as Pepper walked up, looking concerned.

“How is he?”

“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor told her. He was wrapping the boy’s hand, carefully, in a thick towel that the hotel people had supplied to him. “We’re heading to the hospital, now.”

Pepper couldn’t help but react to the fear in Peter’s expression. She reached out and touched his cheek.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. Thank you,” he said. “I’m good.”

“I’m going with them,” Tony told Pepper. “Would you take care of everything here?”

“Clean up your mess, you mean?” She asked, sarcastically. “Yeah. I can do that. I’m good at it.”

He scowled, but it was Peter who spoke, first.

“Tony didn’t do anything. Mr. Hammer started it.”

Which produced an expected complaint from the other man.

“Oh, that is so much _bullshit_. I was just talking to-“

“Perhaps you should stop talking, for the moment,” the other doctor said, annoyed. He’d been close enough to see the start of the conflict and there was no doubt that he agreed with Peter. And _not_ because Peter was a doctor and he was furious that anyone would risk injury to another doctor’s hand. “I wouldn’t want you to bleed out all over the floor.”

Hammer scowled, but he didn’t say anything else, and Tony and the other doctor eased Peter to his feet and ushered him out the door.

><><><><><

_“Well?”_

“We’re on our way back,” Tony replied, looking at the display on his phone.

Pepper looked tired, and somewhat disheveled, so he knew she was in her room, even though he couldn’t see much of the background behind her.

_“You’re staying over?”_

Tony’s initial plan had been to discuss with Peter if he wanted to stay the night Sunday and then fly home Monday, or if he was in a hurry to get home and wanted to leave Sunday night. The billionaire had hoped for another night of hot sex and some serious post coital cuddling, so he’d been all for staying the night. Now it was pretty much a given that they would be staying at least overnight – and maybe a fair bit more.

“Yeah.”

He looked down at the younger man, who was dozing, leaning drunkenly against his side. His hand was sporting an interesting device that Tony had never seen before. When they’d arrived at the hospital, the resident in charge had been competent, but hadn’t been good enough for the world famous orthopedic surgeon to be willing to turn Peter’s care over to her. Instead, he’d made a couple of calls while the resident had ordered x-rays and other tests and had cleaned the cut on the young man’s hand and discussed stitching it, now, or waiting. Eventually they’d stitched it.

Twenty minutes after his calls were made, a new doctor came into the small exam room. This one was introduced to Tony and Peter – who was looking a little doped up on the pain medications he’d been given – as Carla Rasmussen. She was a contemporary of the world famous surgeon, and the only person – other than _himself_ – that he’d trust to Peter’s hand. The woman had smiled, and carefully taken Peter’s hand, looking at the x-rays and sliding her gentle fingers along each of Peter’s own, feeling the bones as she looked at the x-ray images.

“It’s clean,” she confirmed, looking at the three men. Tony was watching, worriedly, while the other doctor was nodding his agreement as he studied the x-rays, as well. “We’ll set it and put it in a Bane’s cast.”

A Bane’s cast turned out to be a two part device. The first part was a metal glove-looking device that lined each finger, individually, and met in a spiderwebbing of light-weight metal along the back of Peter’s hand to a bracelet around his wrist. It left the palm open, but immobilized each bone of the hand at the same time. Then it was covered by the rest of the cast, which was a firm, mitten-like device that was removeable when needed, but would stabilize the hand. It was only to be removed when someone wanted to check the stitches, she’d told them, seriously. Other than that, it stayed on. A sling was applied to immobilize the hand, completely.

It was well after midnight by the time they’d thanked her and the rest of the doctors and Tony and the world famous surgeon had guided their now exhausted young companion into the back of a limo Pepper sent to collect them for the ride back to the hotel.

“We might be staying even longer,” Tony said. “Dr. Rasmussen wants another look at Peter’s hand before she sends him back to New York.”

_“How long?”_

“Maybe a week.”

Pepper didn’t even roll her eyes. None of it was really Tony’s fault, and of course he wasn't going to leave Peter alone and come home with her.

_“Justin Hammer is such an ass,”_ she muttered. _“He’s going to find himself on the end of a loss of wages lawsuit. For Peter, and for the time you have to spend down here with him. Not to mention of it doesn’t heal, properly, then he’ll be-“_

“It’s going to heal fine, Pepper,” Tony said, looking at the surgeon for confirmation – although he’d already assured them several times. “The break is clean and the new cast is incredible.”

She didn’t look mollified.

_“I’m still going to set all of that up.”_

They had a small army of lawyers, after all. They could earn some of the money they were paid.

The surgeon snorted, softly.

“Wait until Hammer receives my bill,” he added. “Orthopedic surgeons don’t come cheap.”

Tony clearly approved.

“We’re getting close to the hotel. When are you leaving in the morning?”

_“Right after I have a chance to check on Peter,”_ came the reply. _“Do you need me to send any help down?”_

“No. He’s fine. I’m going to give him another pain pill and put him to bed.”

He ended the call as they pulled up to the hotel entrance and a doorman walked over to open it. Tony touched Peter’s cheek, and he opened his eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Wake up for a bit, honey,” he said, slowly. “We need to get you up to the room.”

“Yeah.”

Peter just closed his eyes, again, though, making Tony roll his eyes at the surgeon. He tapped Peter’s cheek, lightly, and those pretty eyes opened, again.

“What?”

“Come on, _Doctor Parker_ ,” Tony said, amused. “We need to let Jan, here, get to bed.”

The surgeon snorted, and helped Tony haul Peter out of the back of the limo, which seemed to rouse the younger man a bit more. The two men walked with him between them, supporting him as they did, over to the elevator.

“Do you want me to help you with him?”

“No,” Tony replied. “But thank you very much for the help.”

“Doctors look out for their own…” Peter said, sounding much more asleep than awake, but obviously alert enough to follow the conversation.

Tony looked at the surgeon, who nodded his agreement.

“He’s right. We _do_. If something happens and you’re not sure it’s normal, don’t hesitate to call me. We’re not actually flying out until early afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks,” Peter said, watching blearily as the elevator opened on the surgeon’s floor.

“You’re welcome.”

He left and the door closed, again. Tony looked at Peter as the elevator began moving up, and pressed a gentle kiss against his temple.

“Poor baby…”


	16. 16

Peter just leaned more weight against the larger man and closed his eyes, again.

“I’m tired.”

“We’re going to put you to bed, right away. I promise.”

The boy nodded and he made a half-hearted try to kiss Tony, but his lips landed somewhere near the man’s collarbone. Close enough, Tony decided, as the door opened and they entered the penthouse suite. He decided to make it easier on both of them and just carefully swung Peter up into his powerful arms, holding him tenderly.

Peter didn’t complain. He made a relieved noise and rested his chin against Tony’s shoulder, suddenly bonelessly limp in his arms.

Stark carried him across the living area and into the bedroom. He carefully set Peter on the edge of the bed, and stripped him much slower than if he was seducing him, taking the sling off and easing the cast through the sleeve of his shirt, and then ripping it when the finely tailored material didn’t have enough slack to allow it. He pushed Peter onto his back and slid his pants off, noticing that he was shivering already.

“Stay.”

“ _Woof_.”

Tony smiled, leaned over and kissed Peter and went to find him a pair of sweats and to look for the fuzzy socks that he relied on so much.

The boy was asleep before he returned – even though it had been less than a minute, and Tony rolled his eyes at just how difficult it was to dress someone when they were out of it. He managed, though, and put the sling back on before he pulled the blankets back and maneuvered Peter into his side of the bed. He pulled out the two medications; one for pain and one for infection, and roused Peter enough to get him to down one of the pain pills, determined that he’d sleep through the night.

The boy downed it, and caught the billionaire’s hand, looking up at him. His brown eyes were tired and dull.

“Thank you.”

He could have said something sarcastic. Could have said something clever. Instead, he kissed him, again.

“It’s my pleasure, honey.”

Peter smiled, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Tony made sure he was out, and then went to the bathroom so he could get ready for bed, too. But he kept the door open, just in case. Worried that the younger man would somehow rouse and roll off the bed or something, he didn’t screw around. Instead, he brushed his teeth and changed into sweats and then joined Peter in the bed, holding him as carefully as he could. Peter made an incomprehensible noise and settle, immediately, going back to sleep – if he even woke, at all.

Stark took a fair bit longer.

><><><><<

A softly utter pained noise woke Tony from a restless sleep.

He opened his eyes, noting from the sunshine streaming through the small space in the bedroom’s curtain that it was morning, and found himself looking into Peter’s beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that held pain more than anything, although he didn’t look as doped up as he had been the night before – not surprisingly, since all the good medications had almost certainly run their course.

“Awake, I see…” Tony murmured, softly, touching Peter’s cheek. “How do you feel?”

“I _hurt_. It’s to be expected, I know… but it’s been a long time since I’ve ached so badly.”

“Yeah. I image.” He had expected it, of course, and the solution was easy. Without moving more than his right arm, he reached for the pill and the bottle of water that he’d readied the night before. “Take this.”

The young man’s right hand was pinned under him, and in the sling with a cast, the left wasn't going to be able to do anything constructive. Peter rolled his eyes when Tony realized that about the same time that he did, and pressed the pill against his lips and then did the same once he’d opened the water. The pill went down and Peter took a few more sips before moving his head just a little to indicate he was done.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Peter wasn't shivering, just then. Of course, he was tucked right up against Tony’s warm body, and the billionaire had made sure to dress him in the warmest clothes that he could find in his possessions. The boy looked around, without lifting his head.

“We’re at the hotel?”

“Yes. You don’t remember coming here, last night?”

“I don’t remember much from last night,” Peter admitted. Now he did shiver, and without any sign of awkwardness, he moved even closer to Tony’s larger body. “Just the party and going to the hospital. And not a _lot_ of the hospital, now that I think of it.”

“They put you on some serious painkillers, immediately,” Tony confirmed.

He cuddled the boy, mindful of his hand, and told him what had happened, and what the doctors had all said about his hand. Peter was asleep before he was finished, though, and Tony rolled his eyes, stealing a kiss, now that he couldn’t hurt him by moving beside him.

“It wasn't that boring of a story,” he told Peter, who simply snored in response.

He glanced at his watch, surprised that it was so late in the morning, and very reluctantly rolled out of bed, tucking the blankets around Peter to keep him as warm as he could. For good measure, he added another from the foot of the bed. Then he went to get dressed.

There were calls that he needed to make, after all.

><><><><

A phone call hadn’t been enough for Pepper – which didn’t surprise Stark, at all. She was knocking on the door to the suite only a few minutes after he called to tell her that he was awake and that _Peter_ had woken, too.

Tony opened the door.

“Good morning.”

“How is he feeling?” she asked, walking by him and into the living room area. When she didn’t see Peter on the couch, she moved to the bedroom, and went over to the bed to look down on him. The hand was hidden by the cast and the sling, but neither were a surprise. Tony had called her several times while they were getting Peter cared for, so she knew that he was going to be fine. “ _Poor baby_. Hammer’s in so much trouble, that bastard…”

Stark smirked, amused by the maternal fury he saw in her expression. When she turned to look at him, though, he was quick to school his expression.

“He only woke for a minute. Asked if we were back here, took a pill and then went back to sleep.”

“Was he sore?”

“Yeah. A bit. Jan said it was going to painful for a few days – which is why they prescribed him pills to take the edge off.”

“You’re not flying home, today?”

“Not a chance. Probably we’ll stick around here for at least a few days. The ortho people at the hospital will check him before we head home, and will refer him to a specialist back there.”

“Does he _need_ a specialist?” she asked, frowning. “I thought it was a clean break.”

“It is. But Peter is a _doctor_ and is planning on being a _surgeon_. They’re going to be very careful with his hand – just to make sure there are no complications. I’m going to stay here with him – to make sure he does as he’s told.”

She nodded.

“You _should_. I’ll clear your schedule when I return.”

“Call his boss, too, will you?” Tony asked. “Tell her what happened so she knows why he isn’t coming back today. Tell her it’d be a personal favor to me if she put him on some kind of medical leave until he’s well enough to work, again.”

“I’ll take care of it.” She didn’t even seem annoyed at being ordered around – but they were reasonable requests, really.

><><><><><><

When Pepper left, Tony debated ordering breakfast but decided that it’d be impossible to wake Peter up after giving him a pill that was pretty much designed to make him get as much rest as he could. Deciding that skipping a meal wouldn’t kill Peter, Tony grabbed a couple of granola bars and slid back into the bed beside the younger man, making sure he was right up beside him so he could help keep him warm. Then, propped up by pillows, with one hand resting lightly on Peter’s shoulder, he spent the morning on his tablet, thumbing through projects that he was working on and the numbers that had been processed so far regarding the gala, itself.

Peter slept through it all, oblivious to anything – although sometime during the morning, his hand moved to rest on Tony’s hip.


	17. 17

He woke him for lunch, and Peter was a little less groggy.

The young man even sat up, a little, when Tony brought a tray to the bed and set it between them.

“Pancakes?”

Stark shrugged.

“I wanted to make sure it was something that you’d eat. There’s even _blueberry_ syrup.”

That had been a bit of a hassle, really, since the hotel kitchen stopped doing breakfast at 11, and it was unheard of to make someone pancakes at 2pm. Unheard of unless it was _Tony Stark_ , of course, requesting them. When he’d requested blueberry syrup, specifically, he’d been told politely that they didn’t have that. He’d suggested they go find a local IHOP and buy some there, and had mentioned that he didn’t mind whatever extra charge there might be associated with it.

The kitchen manager and the concierge had – of course – had no issue with trying to find blueberry syrup for him.

“That’s nice,” Peter said, yawning. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Can you handle it?”

Cutting anything with just one hand was almost certainly messy. Syrup and pancakes? A disaster waiting to happen.

“Yes.”

He looked around, though, as he ate.

“We’re at the hotel,” Tony told him, helpfully, remembering that he hadn’t known the first time he’d woken.

“I see that… It’s Monday?”

“Yes.”

“When are we leaving? Has Miss Potts contacted you, yet?”

He knew that she planned on flying home with them.

“ _We_ aren’t leaving, any time soon,” Tony told him, munching nonchalantly on a sausage, even though he’d actually ordered a BLT and fries for his own lunch. “Pepper has been gone a few hours, now.”

“What?”

“You’re stuck here, with me, for a few days, at least,” Tony replied. “Don’t worry, Pepper’s going to let your boss know what’s going on. The ortho surgeons from last night both recommended that we keep you here, for now, so they can see how the hand is healing before you go home to see a specialist.”

“Oh.” Peter was smart enough to realize the extra care that he was getting, and gratified by it, really. “ _You’re_ staying?”

Tony shrugged.

“Technically, you’re still my _date_ , right? The gala is over, but the hand thing is a direct result of it and you’re my responsibility. Besides, I wouldn’t trust someone else to watch you, when I can.”

“You don’t have anything better to do?”

“Nope.”

“And if the _Avengers_ call…?”

“We’ll see.”

Peter smiled, but he didn’t argue. He worked his way through as much of the meal as he could, discussing the hand, mostly, since he didn’t remember any more than scattered comments and images from his time at the hospital. Tony tried to explain what was done, but he wasn't a doctor, and eventually, once the meal was finished and the tray set aside, Stark called the world famous surgeon, who was on his way to the airport, but more than willing to talk to Peter about the prognosis and schedule for treatment.

Tony listened in on the conversation, but he didn’t really follow much of it. The two were probably talking in doctor-speak on _purpose_ , he decided, just to make him feel like an idiot. There was something about having Rasmussen take x-rays, again, on Wednesday or Thursday, and a consult with a specialist there in Florida, but then sending all the information to a different specialist who worked out of New York – which was already set up. If Peter was cleared to leave, he could go home and meet the new specialist on Monday in his office.

By the time the call ended, all _Tony_ knew for certain was that the orthopedic surgeon had firmly reminded Peter to be careful with his hand, take all the medication he’d been prescribed – if needed – and that Tony was to call him, personally, if Peter looked like he was having any ill-effects from anything.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck dealing with this,” Peter said, when Tony set his phone aside.

“I’m not,” the older man said, truthfully. He leaned in and planted a reassuring kiss against the corner of Peter’s mouth. “I get to spend extra time with you, this way. And the longer this takes, the more I can lord it over Justin Hammer in the future.”

Ah. Of course.

Peter smiled at that, and looked down at himself.

“I need a shower.”

“Can’t get your cast wet.”

“Which doesn’t mean I can’t shower,” the boy told him. “I just have to do it one-handed.”

“That never works,” Tony replied. “I’ve tried it. I ended up soaking the bathroom, and my cast, and then it started rotting and I had to go back to the doctor to get a new one – and listen to them shitting on me for being stupid enough to not listen to them, in the first place.”

“I can probably manage.”

The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

“And if you don’t, you’re going to make me look like the most worthless nurse on the planet. So, _no_.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“You _could_ help me rather than be annoying.”

“Yeah?” Tony moved closer, leaning over the tray, putting his face in Peter’s hair for a moment and then brushing his lips against his ear. “Would I get to join you in the shower and help you?”

“Duh. I’ll hold my hand out of the spray, and you can wash me.”

“Sounds delightful.” He kissed him, but reluctantly pulled back, feeling himself starting to respond to the idea. “However, you should know that the first thing I was told, last night, was that you are to be kept quiet for the next few days and not allowed out of bed. No physical activity.”

“A _shower_ isn’t physical.”

“I know. But let’s keep it that way.”

“What?”

“No _sex_.”

Peter frowned.

“I’m probably not up to having sex in the shower with you, right now. You realize that, right?”

“You're thinking that _now_ ,” Tony said. “But I want you to remember that once we’re in there, too, and you’re naked, with my hands soaking you up and sliding all over your body. No sex, _then_ , either.”

The younger man shook his head, incredulous.

“Your hubris knows no bounds, does it?”

“Nope. Do we agree? I will help you shower and keep your hand from getting wet, and you will not try to seduce me in the shower?”

“Yes. We’re agreed.”

“Good.” He could use a shower, too, really. “Come on, then.”

Tony actually helped Peter out of bed, and then undressed him. Despite his own reservations, he _did_ kiss his chest and stomach once he had him naked, but he was careful to avoid making himself look like a hypocrite by doing anything that might look like potential seduction. Peter stood, shivering, while Tony quickly undressed himself, as well, and then they went into the bathroom. The older man turned on the spray and Peter stepped in, gratefully, soaking up the hot water while making sure his hand wasn't anywhere near the water.

Tony gave him a chance to warm up, and then took a cloth and body wash and started at Peter’s feet, working his way up and washing him, thoroughly. Feet, calves and shins, thighs… he nudged them apart and gently washed Peter’s rear, stealing a kiss while he did as he refamiliarized himself with the boy’s ass, sliding his fingers along it – washing him.

“That isn’t fair,” Peter murmured, forced to hold still to avoid the spray.

Stark chuckled.

“I _know_.”

He didn’t sound sorry, though.

He moved his hand, but the next place he washed was Peter’s somewhat erect cock, and he spent an unnecessary amount of time cleaning it and the younger man’s testicles, rolling them in his fingers, making sure they were clean as clean could be. He even hummed under his breath while he worked.

“Tony… stop.”

The plaint was almost breathless, and he smirked, his own brown eyes catching Peter’s amused ones.

“I _told_ you.”

“You’ve made your point. _Jesus_.”

The rest of the shower went quicker as Tony took mercy on him. Peter’s upper body was cleaned and his hair was even washed in only a few minutes. The remaining soap was rinsed and then the boy picked up a towel and dried himself, watching while Tony showered, too.

The only saving grace for Peter’s ego was that Tony was fairly hard, as well.

Tony dried himself and then dried Peter more thoroughly than the boy had managed one-handed.

“Back to bed, now,” he told him, brushing those curls, lovingly.

“Yeah.”

His hand was beginning to ache.

He didn’t bother to dress. Tony pulled the blankets back and helped him under them, covering him, warmly. Then, as if he understood the shadow of pain he saw in his eyes, he fetched him a pain pill and another bottle of water.

“Do you need anything before I take this?” Peter asked, looking at the prescription bottle this time and understanding why he was so out of it, earlier. It really was potent pain medication. “I’m not going to be much use to anyone once I take this.”

“Nope. I need you to sleep and heal.”

Peter took his medicine, and Tony pulled on a pair of sweats, and then put Peter’s fuzzy socks on the boy’s feet, even though he wasn't wearing anything else. Cold feet sucked, after all.

Peter closed his eyes, and relaxed, watching as Tony puttered around the bedroom, clearing the tray and moving things around a little. He watched as the older man brought another blanket in from the living room area, just in case, and then rolled, carefully, onto his side to face him when Tony finally joined him in the bed.

The younger man cuddled close, more than willing to leech warmth from Tony, who gathered him in his arms.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Cleaner?”

“M-hmm. Sleepy.”

A gentle kiss against his temple, and then another pressed to his cheek.

“Go to sleep, honey,” Tony crooned. “I’ll keep you safe and warm.”

With a promise like that, Peter drifted off, immediately.


	18. 18

It was probably as lazy a day as Tony could ever remember having.

Peter wasn't good company, really. Not that Tony minded holding him, because he _didn’t_ , but the young man was sleeping, and only an occasional movement as he shifted in his sleep, almost always accompanied by a shiver that made _Tony_ shift, too, was the interaction that he had with him. Instead, he napped a bit, and pulled his phone from the bedside stand to make some calls, send off a few emails and even more text messages.

He checked in with Pepper right before dinner, and she asked about Peter and then mentioned with a smug expression that the lawyers were already getting several lawsuits ready to be sent to Hammer’s people to be reviewed.

Tony ended the call feeling equally smug, and wondering if someone might happen to have any footage of the brawl at the gala – or Hammer’s drunken rant. He’d have to see if FRIDAY could find any, first, and then see if it was any good before he had her _accidentally_ leak it somewhere on social media where it could be picked up by the multitudes.

He frowned, though, when he looked down at Peter’s sleeping form. The other mogul had been ranting about _Peter_. Which meant that there might be footage of his young companion. Footage that would be fine to have leaked to embarrass Hammer, but might not be so great if it embarrassed the younger man as well.

He’d have to see what there was, before he made any final decisions.

Tossing his phone aside, he brushed his hand against the young man’s cheek. It was warm to the touch, and Peter wasn't shivering, just then.

“Hey, honey,” he murmured. “Wake up.”

Peter’s eyes opened, albeit slowly.

“Hmmm?”

“Wake up.”

“I’m _sleepy_.”

He turned his head and buried his cheek against the arc reactor.

“You need some dinner,” Tony told him, threading his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Then you can go back to sleep.”

“No.”

The refusal was muffled by Tony’s own skin.

“Yes. Come on. Whatever you want.”

“No.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and pushed him, carefully, away from his side.

“Wake up enough to eat, Doctor Parker.”

Peter smiled at the address, and Tony didn’t blame him for it. He had to be proud of himself, after all.

“If I eat, you have to make love to me.”

“What? _No_. We’ve already gone over that. No strenuous physical activity until you’re ready for it.”

“I’m ready for it.”

The older man shook his head, and got out of bed. He wasn't made of stone, after all, and that young, hot, body naked and close to him, like that?

“What do you want to eat?”

“You.”

“Peter.”

The boy finally opened his eyes, and he rolled onto his back. Even through the several layers of bedding, Tony could see a tent pole in the making.

“Come on, Tony… I’ll be fine.”

“Nope.”

“Ugh…”

Peter sat up, moving a little with a wince, so he was being propped up by the pillows he’d been sleeping against.

“Good,” Tony said approvingly. He even moved back to the bed, leaned over and brushed a kiss against Peter’s lips. The younger man slid his tongue along Tony’s, but he pulled back, avoiding temptation – again. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t sulk. This is for your own good. I – what are you _doing_?”

“Nothing.”

Peter had closed his eyes and slid his right hand down to his lap. Now he was relaxing further, and the blankets were moving in time with the motions he was making.

“Hey…”

“Ignore it,” came the response, although the young man stopped long enough to pull the blankets aside, revealing his naked body and his aroused cock. “Oops.”

“Peter…”

The hand returned, and began working his cock, sliding up and down the shaft. Peter’s thumb would absently slide along the head, and there was already precum glistening.

“Hmmm?”

Tony couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What my daddy should be doing to me, right now.”

The billionaire licked his lips.

“What’s that, honey…?” he asked, sliding his hand down to his own lap. “What should your daddy be doing?”

“He should be kissing me,” Peter replied, his hand mesmerizing Tony as it worked his cock. “And licking me. Making me squirm.”

He trailed off, then, clearly concentrating, and Tony groaned, scooting closer.

“What _else_ , baby?” he whispered. “What is daddy doing to you?”

“Sucking me…” Peter replied. “He’s going to make me cum, and then he’s going to slick me up, roll me onto my belly and slide his fat daddy cock into me.”

“You’re not _obeying_ daddy, though,” Tony pointed out. “Do you really _deserve_ all of that? Maybe daddy won’t let you cum, at all. Maybe he’ll just use you, instead. Take his own pleasure and leave you aching and hard.”

“Daddies take care of their babies,” Peter told him, matter-of-factly, his eyes still closed, his hand working himself.

Tony leaned over and pulled Peter’s hand away from his cock.

“Stop that, baby,” he ordered, his voice husky with desire.

“Daddy…” Peter whined. “ _Please_?”

“Fuck.” Tony lowered his head and drew Peter’s cock into his mouth, enjoying the moan of pleasure the action pulled from the younger man. He caught both of Peter’s arms – carefully making sure to be well above the cast on the left – and then held him down with his superior weight before he let his cock go. “You’re going to stay still and do what daddy tells you, baby, right?”

“Yes.”

“Keep your eyes closed,” Tony told him.

“Yes, daddy,”

Tony took a better hold of the left arm, making sure it was completely immobilized, and then lowered his head to Peter’s groin, once more. There was a low, soft, moan when he caught it in his mouth and a gasp as he slowly engulfed him. Tony didn’t slow, though. He deepthroated his young lover, pulled up for a breath, and then went down on him, once more, repeating the motion until Peter was writhing under him, but was completely pinned by Tony’s hands holding his arms, and Tony’s body, which was draped over his upper thighs, holding him still.

He couldn’t do anything but take what Tony was doing and make noises of pleasure and excitement that only encouraged the older man to double his efforts.

Not surprisingly, Peter didn’t last too long, and he groaned as he bucked up as well as he could, emptying his balls into the older man’s mouth in a series of urgent jerks.

“Fuck… that was so good…” Peter murmured, clearly satisfied.

Tony moved up and kissed him.

“Feel better, baby?”

Peter smiled, and maybe he looked a little guilty when he opened his eyes, then, to look up at him.

“Yes, daddy. Thank you. I really needed it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony approved of the boy being willing to make him give him what he wanted. He liked Peter’s confidence outside of the bedroom, and he loved it inside, too. “You’ll eat dinner for me, now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Tony kissed him, again, and released his arms, but Peter hugged him close the moment he did, parting his legs.

“Daddies _use_ their babies, too, Tony…” he whispered.

“Jesus, Peter. You’re killing me, honey.”

The younger man chuckled.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he assured Tony. “Just don’t jar my hand.”

Even as he was speaking, he was allowing his right hand to slide down Tony’s back, and then along his hip, following the contours of the billionaire’s body to his front, and finding his throbbing cock.

“Peter…”

“ _Baby_ ,” the boy corrected, stroking him, lightly. “It’s baby until we’re done, daddy.”

“Fuck.” Tony buried his face in Peter’s shoulder, holding himself still as he was played with, savoring the way Peter’s hand was pumping him, trying to milk his cock. “Close your eyes, again, baby,” he ordered, finally pulling up and forcing the younger man to release him as he did.

He leaned over and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling lube and a condom that he’d known was there, since he’d been anticipating Sunday night and had made sure there was a supply in easy reach. Tony pushed Peter’s knees, separating them, further, and lubed his finger before sliding it between the boy’s legs.

“Daddy’s baby is going to get fucked so good,” he whispered, watching Peter’s face as he started to play with him. There was a sound of agreement as Tony’s finger slid into him. “So tight for me, aren’t you baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

The boy arched against the invasion, trying to get his finger in deeper, but Tony gentled him with a kiss to each eyelid.

“Hold still, baby. You’re being used. We’re going to go at my pace. You’re going to take it for daddy.”

“Fuck.”

Peter’s chest was getting as red as his sunburned face.

“I get to do what I want to you,” Tony said, softly, adding his own dominating kink to their play as he inserted another finger into his boy. “Don’t I, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good baby.” He kissed Peter, hungrily, stabbing his tongue into his mouth as he stretched his ass for his cock. “Good boy, baby. Daddy’s so hard for you. Going to fuck you so hard.”

Peter whimpered, but Tony could tell it wasn't pain. It was the kind of sound that sent a shiver through him that was a match for Peter on the coldest of days. Just to be sure, though, he took a pillow from his side of the bed and carefully put it over the injured hand – just as a buffer. Then, while he had his hands free, he opened the condom and put it on, as well, stroking himself with his well-lubed hand.

“Eyes closed, baby boy,” Tony reminded him, slathering more lube against Peter’s entrance. “I’m going to fill you up.”

Peter arched just as Tony pressed the head of his cock against him and pushed in, and he grunted in pleasure as he breached the younger man’s tight ass. He didn’t slow, either, although he was as gentle as he could be. Only when he was completely entrenched inside that tight ass did he stop to give them both a chance to take a breath.

“Yes,” Peter groaned, his legs coming around Tony to hold him in place.

The billionaire had no intention of changing his mind, though. With a chuckle at the eagerness in the boy, he pressed a kiss against Peter’s neck and then held his face still while he pulled his cock mostly out, and then sank it slowly back where it belonged.

“Feel that, baby?” he crooned. “Daddy’s fucking you. Giving you what you were begging for. Fucking my baby like he needs to be fucked all the time, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, daddy. _Yes_.”

He continued to talk dirty to him, his thrusts lazy at first and only speeding up as Peter began moving, arching into each motion to get him as deep as he could and groaning every time Tony’s cock hit his prostate coming in or sliding out. Tony’s hips were pistoning, now, driving himself harder and faster, his breathing ragged in Peter’s ear where his face was still buried. One arm had come around Peter’s lithe form, the right hand was on Peter’s left arm, holding it pinned where it was to keep him from forgetting it was injured if he became too excited.

He finally grunted and came, slamming deep and savoring the sensation of his release, even if he didn’t feel himself filling Peter instead of the stupid condom.

Peter’s right arm was holding him close and the occasional jerk of the left told Tony that it had been smart to immobilize it.

“Good boy…” Tony crooned into his ear. “Daddy loves his baby so much.”

Peter made a pleased noise, and neither thought the words out of place in the aftermath of their loving. It was simply part of the game of love.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Tony pulled out, kissed him, again, and then released him – and his left arm.

“You’re welcome, baby. Will you eat dinner for me, now?”

The boy smiled.

“I think you’ve convinced me.”

He rolled his eyes at just how smug Peter looked.

“Jesus. I’m too _old_ to have to do this three times a day. You know that, right?”

“I’m a doctor,” Peter reminded him. “I’ll keep you healthy while you nurse me back to health.”


	19. 19

_“So? What did the specialist say?”_

Tony smiled.

“He cleared us to come back home. Peter has an appointment with the New York specialist on Tuesday.”

_“Want me to send the jet on Sunday, then?”_

Stark shook his head.

“Unfortunately, we will be taking the train home.”

Pepper frowned at that.

_“Why on Earth would you do that?”_

“Because Doctor Peter Parker is afraid to fly unless he _has_ to,” Tony replied.

By then Pepper knew Peter’s background a little better. She’d been in constant touch with Tony – and Peter – over the last four days, and had even looked the young man up.

“Don’t listen to him, Miss Potts,” Peter said, moving his head to put it in front of Stark’s. He looked healthy and cheerful. A far cry better than he had the day she’d left him drugged out in Tony’s bed. “I’m a _wary_ flyer, but not _afraid_.”

_“Of course you are, sweetheart,”_ Pepper said, her mothering tone making Tony roll his eyes – which made both her and Peter smile. _“You have every reason to be. If you don’t want to fly, then you don’t have to.”_

“Thank you.”

“Don’t _baby_ him, Pepper,” Tony said. “He’s already becoming insufferable. He doesn’t need you adding to it.”

_“I’m not babying him, Tony,”_ she replied, smiling warmly at the younger man. _“I ‘m just not going to make him use that poor, battered hand of his to clutch the armrests of the jet if we don’t need to.”_

“Whatever.”

_“When will you be home?”_

“Sunday night. I’ll take Monday and Tuesday off – Monday to rest and Tuesday because I want to hear what the New York specialist has to say. I’ll be in the office by Wednesday.”

_“Good. I’ll make your schedule. Peter? You officially don’t need to go back to work at the lounge, unless you want to.”_

The boy looked surprised.

“That was quick.”

“Hammer folded like laundry,” she said, smugly. “Our lawyers presented the suit papers to his – on behalf of Peter B Parker MD on Tuesday, and they were clamoring to settle out of court by this morning.”

“For how much?” Tony asked, curiously.

_“Two million.”_

“Should have asked for three times that,” Stark complained.

_“Peter is going to be a heart surgeon, he doesn’t need more than that_ ,” Pepper said. _“Do you, sweetheart?”_

The boy smiled, again, well aware that she called him that more to annoy Tony than out of any real desire to mother him. It was good for the billionaire to be brought down a notch or two, occasionally, and Pepper was pretty good at it.

“Of course not. That’s incredible.” He didn’t _need_ two million, either, but he definitely wasn't going to say no to it. The years that he did his residency were going to be difficult enough as it was. Not having to work on the side or worry about having saved enough money for those years augmented by his trust was going to make it a lot less stressful, anyway. “Thank you.”

_“You’re welcome.”_ She looked at both of them, and frowned at Tony. “ _You look tired. Get some sleep on the train.”_

“Yeah. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

_“Bye.”_

She ended the call, and Peter smiled at Tony.

“She’s right; you _are_ looking tired, today.”

“You’re such a little shit.”

The boy looked shocked.

“I should call her back, right now, and tell her what you just called me.”

Stark snorted, amused, and tossed his phone to the side, wrapping his arms around Peter’s perfect body and holding him close so he could nuzzle at his neck.

“The only thing we’re calling is room service. We’re going to have dinner, and then you’re going to cock warm me all night to thank me for taking such good care of you the last few days. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy,” Peter said, meekly, shivering in the older man’s embrace.

Tony deserved that – and much more – to thank him for taking such good care of him. He’d been incredibly patient in the face of Peter’s initial days of injury. Peter was proof of the old adage that doctors didn’t make good patients. Or maybe it was normally active young men who didn’t. Either way, Peter was stubborn about eating at the best of times (and those were the times that Tony could cajole him with sex) and moody about everything that was happening at the worst. When he was in the grasp of the pain medications, he was always restless, unless he was asleep, and constantly worried about his hand, certain that it wasn't going to get well and crying into Stark’s arms in bitter disappointment.

For his part, Tony held him, comforting him when he needed it, teasing him and loving him and keeping him distracted in a multitude of other ways. He made Peter eat, he made Peter smile, and he made him feel that the world wasn't coming to an end, after all.

Peter was grateful for that. And was certainly willing to allow his focus to be on the older man, now that he’d been assured by the specialist that there wouldn’t be any lasting damage to his hand. Even the stitches looked good, he’d said. His lips found Tony’s ear, and he felt Stark shiver, too.

“What do you want for dinner, honey?”

“Anything.”

There was a soft chuckle.

“No. You _say_ you’ll eat anything, and then when whatever it is I picked comes up and is presented to you, you’re surly and grumpy about the choice. I’m going to wait for you to tell me what you want – and that is what we’ll have.”

“Grumpy?” Peter repeated trying to sound shocked. “ _Me_? I’m sweet and innocent.”

Tony pulled back enough that he could meet Peter’s gaze, pleased to see he was cheerful and the lingering fear that had been there all week – even through their banter – was gone.

“You’re definitely sweet,” he agreed. “But not at all innocent.”

Peter smiled.

“No. Not so much,” he acceded. “I’d like chili dogs. With cheese. And fries.”

“No. I’m not going to let you eat that garbage. Do you _know_ what they put in hotdogs?”

“Of course, I do.” He allowed his eyes to get large and hopeful. _“Please…?”_

Stark rolled his eyes, not fooled for a moment.

“Fine.”

The younger man allowed himself to melt against Tony’s embrace.

“Thank you, daddy.”

He shook his head, and couldn’t help but hug him, close, and press a kiss against the top of those unruly curls.

“It’s a good thing you don’t want to be a sugar baby, honey,” Tony told him, sliding his hand along the younger man’s back. “Because I wouldn’t be able to deny you anything you asked for.”

“I much prefer to be your baby in the bedroom and your friend everywhere else,” Peter agreed, his right hand going down to Tony’s lap. “It’s better that way – and far less complicated.”

“Yes.” The billionaire stopped Peter’s gentle probing before the boy could get him too involved – and hard. “Am I taking you home with me, though? When we return to the city? Or are you taking me home with you?”

“I’m not going to need your constant care,” Peter said. “But I wouldn’t object to you coming over and having a slumber party with me – at my place.”

“A _naked_ slumber party?”

“Those are the best kinds.”

“You’ll really be alright?” Tony asked. “I mean, I’m going to be busy, so I really couldn’t be around, nonstop, to take care of you when we get back, but I don’t like you being alone. We could get you a nurse, or something.”

“I don’t need a nurse. If I’m not taking the heavy duty pain medications, I’m fine to be alone.”

The hand still ached abominably, but not like it had, initially, and Peter knew he didn’t need more than some over the counter pain relievers to keep the edge off.

“You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

Peter kissed him, and his hand went right back to Tony’s groin, and now he was a bit more insistent when he started unzipping the older man’s pants. He was fairly certain that Tony would eventually get caught back up in his high-society, superhero world once they returned to New York. Peter wasn't part of that world, yet; he was a lowly resident, but his time would come.

For now, he’d just enjoy the billionaire’s attentions, and give him as much of his own as Tony wanted.

Tony sighed in pleasure when Peter’s hand encircled his shaft, and he leaned back a little, giving in as he usually did when it came to the younger man.

“That’s good baby,” he murmured, allowing the change in topic. “Get daddy hard.”

He and Peter needed to have a talk, but now wasn't the time or the place.


	20. 20

“Ugh.”

Peter smiled at the noise Tony made when they walked into their roomette. It was small and plain, with a benchlike sofa that would turn into a (maybe) double bed at night to give them someplace to sleep and a huge window that had a blind that could be raised or lowered to allow them look out at the scenery as it passed. There was limited storage, and no private bathroom, but it had a door that closed and locked from the inside, affording them far more privacy than most people on the train enjoyed.

“What? Tony Stark is too good for train travel?”

“Yes.” He sat down on the sofa, wincing in exaggerated agony at the less than comfortable accommodations. “I thought you had me figured out by now, honey. I’m too good for _all_ this. That’s why I have a private plane and I stay in nice hotels and eat at expensive restaurants. _You’re_ rich, now, you’ll see.”

Peter brushed his hand along Tony’s shoulder.

“Thank you for doing this for me.”

The scowl left Tony’s face at the sincerity in the boy’s appreciation.

“You’re welcome.” He looked out the window as the train started moving. “I suppose it’s too late to change my mind, now, anyway.”

“For you? No. I’m not, however.” He sat down beside Tony, taking his hand and threading his fingers through the older man’s. “And, for your information, I was _already_ pretty rich.”

“What?”

Peter smiled, shifting so that he could lay on the sofa and put his head in Tony’s lap, which was far more comfortable, and never letting go of that wonderful hand with those talented fingers.

“I said, I was already rich. Sort of. Not _Tony Stark_ rich, or anything – but few people are. I was comfortable, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had access to my trust fund since I turned eighteen,” he pointed out. “And it was set up with six figures when I was six. With the interest it was gaining, and the fact that no one could touch it, or _tax_ it, I was pretty set by the time I started medical school. One of the reasons I was able to become a doctor in the first place, really. Your $100K and Hammer’s two million are going to make it a _lot_ nicer, though.”

“Then why were you waiting tables?”

“I needed a job.”

“But you just said that-“

“To keep me from going crazy,” Peter interrupted. “And to keep my head on straight. I’ve seen what money can do to someone like me.”

“There isn’t _anyone_ like you,” Tony told him, sincerely, pleased at the way the young man blushed at the compliment.

“You know what I mean. Young, just out of school and with no one to give me any kind of guidance? A real job, working with real people was exactly the way to keep me grounded and centered.”

“Huh.” He hadn’t actually had FRIDAY check Peter’s financials. He’d done a background check, of course, to make sure he really was a doctor and who he said he was, and had made sure he didn’t have any criminal history that might embarrass him if it were to come out at the gala, but he hadn’t actually delved into Peter’s money, assuming that the boy wouldn’t be working if he didn’t need to. “Wait. Why did you agree to come as my date if you didn’t need the money?”

Peter looked up at him.

“Why not? It gave me a good excuse to say yes to you.”

“So you _did_ know who I was?”

“No. I mean, no more than I told you I did. What I saw, though, was an older, handsome guy that I wanted a chance to spend some time with – and a perfect opportunity to do it.”

“And _rich_.”

The boy shrugged.

“A person can only spend so much money. You already know I don’t want you as a sugar daddy. I wanted to get to know you. But on my terms, of course. I’m definitely glad I said yes.”

Now it was Tony who felt himself blushing.

He looked down at the hands that were entwined together, resting on Peter’s flat stomach.

“How do I _keep_ you?”

“Hmm?”

“Not as a _pet_ ,” Tony said, quickly. “Or a sugar baby. But I kind of _like_ having you around. And not just because the sex is incredible. How do I keep you?”

“You want to keep this act we had going?”

“I don’t want you to use the word _had_ , again. Or _act_ , either. So yeah. I’d like to continue seeing you. What do you think?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Peter admitted. “You’re pretty amazing.”

“But…?”

“But I’m going to be extremely busy for the next few years, and I won’t have a lot of time to spend with you. You deserve a lot better than that – and if it were _me_ , I’d get pretty tired of being the second most important part of my boyfriend’s life.”

“Just through your _residency_ , though, right?” Tony asked. “If we made it through that, then _I’d_ get to be the focal point of your being?”

“Slow down, Tex,” Peter said, smiling, and pulling Tony’s hand up to his lips to kiss it. “Let’s start with making it through the _train ride_.”

“Ugh. Peter…”

“Tony…”

“Why are you making this complicated? I already know we’re compatible. _You’re_ smart. _I’m_ smart. _You’re_ sexy as fuck. _I’m_ sexy as fuck. We get along pretty well.”

“We do,” Peter agreed. “So far. But you haven’t seen me with corn stuck in my teeth, or seen me coming in late with my ass dragging because I’ve had a long day with a lot of difficult patients or studying. That might not be something you want to deal with on a daily basis. And _I’ve_ never been full time involved with a superhero. What if I can’t handle the stress of watching you do something crazy dangerous, knowing just how much damage it could do to you?”

“So, you’re saying _no_?” Tony asked, feeling himself ache at being rejected like he’d never ached before.

And over a twenty-four-year old, no less.

“No.” Peter’s other hand was still in the cast, in the sling, so he squeezed Tony’s hand and let him go, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I’m saying that we should take our time, and give ourselves a chance to see just how compatible we really _are_. There’s no _hurry_ , you know. I’m going to be in New York for at least the next four years, right? Plenty of time.”

Tony frowned, looking down at him.

“Stop being so practical, Peter Parker. I want to plunge headlong into this.”

It was his nature to do that, after all.

The young man wasn't upset. In fact, his smile was loving and understanding.

“Do it my way, Tony,” he said, taking that hand, again, and rolling a little so Tony was holding him in his arms while they both could look out the window at the scenery passing by. “It’ll take longer, but the end result will be more stable and more certain.”

“I’m _already_ certain.”

“Then the wait will be easy for you,” Peter replied, squeezing his hand, lightly.

“Can I at least assume you’ll come to the next _gala_?”

“With _you_?”

Tony rolled his eyes, smiling, now.

“Yes, with me.”

Duh.

“That could be arranged – as long as it doesn’t interfere with my residency schedule, of course. That has to come first.”

“Only for the next four years,” Stark said, somewhat sarcastically.

“Correct. Unless, for some reason, it turns out I’m not surgeon material and I wash out in the first month.”

“You’re surgeon material,” Tony assured him, and now he gathered him into his arms a little more, so he truly was supporting him and holding him. “Any idiot can see that.”

Feeling warmed by the reassurance, Peter smiled, and looked up at him.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. And just for that, I’ll give you a discount on the cost of taking me to the next gala.”

“What?”

Peter smirked, and then tucked his face into Tony’s chest, forgoing the view for the restive support of the older man’s strong embrace.

“Maybe I’ll have a coupon day… or a buy one, get one 50% off special.

Tony chuckled, knowing he was being messed with, now, and loving him for being so sassy.

“Think you’re funny, do you?”

“Yes.”

The billionaire brushed a kiss against the top of Peter’s head and settled in for the train ride. A day and a half on a crowded train, instead of a few hours on a private, luxurious jet? He was crazy. He had to be.

But he was going to do it. Because that was what Peter needed, and for the first time in a long time, he liked the thought of putting someone else’s needs ahead of his own. Probably because it was Peter.

“I think you are, too.”

There was a soft chuckle, and he felt the younger man’s lips brush against the fabric of his shirt, and then they were both still, enjoying the company the other provided and watching the scenery rumble by.


	21. Epilogue

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived.

Dressed in their formal attire and looking handsome, both men stopped at the entrance to the room. Tony because he was giving everyone in the room the chance to realize that he was there and admire just how amazing he looked, and Peter because he liked to take in the room before deciding which way to go, and who he wanted to speak with, first. Providing he saw anyone that he knew, in the first place.

This time he _did_ , though, and he turned and brushed his lips against Tony’s neck. Presumably in a kiss, but Tony smiled and nodded, proving that more had been communicated in the gesture.

The larger man allowed Peter to guide him the direction that his love wanted to go, and after a minute of casual mingling, the two men sidled up to a gorgeous blonde and her ruggedly handsome companion. At the moment, the two were engaged in conversation with a baseball player and his wife, but Peter cleared his throat, pointedly, and the blonde turned at the interruption.

And smiled, surprised.

“ _Peter_!”

He smiled, too, catching her hug.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Or should I say _Doctor_ Parker?” she asked, cupping his face in her palms, and kissing him, soundly, before releasing him. “It isn’t Doctor _Stark_ , yet, right?”

“It isn’t _going_ to be Stark,” Tony replied, before Peter could. He shook the baseball player’s hand, politely kissed the cheek of the wife, and greeted Angel’s date with a smile and a nod. “Peter’s finished with his residency, now, but we’re going to give him a chance to settle in a bit before the wedding, and it’ll be too complicated to change his name right as he’s getting his career off the ground.”

The younger man smiled.

“Besides, we don’t _need_ to have the same name. We know who we belong to without bothering.”

It had been almost exactly four years since Tony had taken that train ride with Peter back to New York. How did he know? They were now at the very same gala that Peter had first accompanied him to. They were far more comfortable with each other, however, and Peter was now an up and coming – and already proven – heart surgeon.

Tony had taken Peter home. To the younger man’s modest apartment and not his own incredible one. He’d offered, of course, wanting to spend more time with the boy, but Peter had wanted to be in his own place, where he was most comfortable. He’d smiled, then, and looked up at Tony, almost shyly, with his hand lightly pressed against his chest. He didn’t want to be _alone_ , though, if the billionaire didn’t have anything more pressing to do?

So Tony had sent all of his luggage home to have the concierge of his building leave it inside his door – or checked somewhere, or tossed in the garbage, he didn’t care – and he’d stayed the rest of the weekend and the beginning of the next week with Peter in his place. Then, when it came time for the appointment with the ortho specialist, it had been Tony who drove Peter there, pointing out that he couldn’t drive safely with only one hand, anyway.

The specialist had greeted them both, politely, and immediately had brand new x-rays taken of Peter’s hand. Then the two doctors had studied them, carefully, while Tony looked on trying not to look as ignorant about the results as he felt. The hand was healing just fine, it seemed, and there didn’t appear to be any kind of complications. He set a follow up for the next week and reminded Peter that orthopedic surgeons were a lot cooler than _heart_ surgeons – which had made the boy grin at the blatant attempt to get him to change specialties.

Then they’d gone for a walk in the park to celebrate, and Tony had asked Peter if he could take him out on a date that night.

“A _real_ date,” he’d added. “Not one that we’re pretending.”

Peter had smiled and blushed, looking so pleased that Tony felt his heart flip-flop.

“I’d like that.”

“So would I.”

So, they’d gone on a date. Tony took him out for pizza, and kept him up late – and then had taken him home and introduced him to FRIDAY. And before Peter left the next morning, he’d asked the younger man out on _another_ date, pointing out that he had to get all the time with him that he could, now, since once his residency started, he was going to be reduced to back burner status.

Peter had to agree, and was relieved that Stark seemed to understand.

By the time he began his residency – still in cardiology despite the best attempts of three different orthopedic surgeons trying to wear him down and steal him away – he and Tony were officially an item. But they still lived at separate addresses. Peter liked having someone to come home to; Tony would sometimes be waiting for him with dinner on the table when he was done with his shift, but he also didn’t want someone to be waiting at home for him, expectantly, on those days when emergencies came in and Peter’s regular shift was extended due to an unexpected surgery that needed to be done.

It would put a lot of strain on a relationship, and he didn’t want Tony to feel obligated to be patient.

By the time Peter’s first year of residency was completed, Tony had decided that he liked the idea of being with a doctor. Liked the idea more and more each day. He loved that Peter would come home, put his head in Tony’s lap and talk to him about his day. Or, sometimes, he’d sit on the sofa with Tony’s head in _his_ lap and listen to the trials and tribulations of being a superhero. Or a billionaire. Or a philanthropist. Or a genius. Never a _playboy_ , though. Tony didn’t need anyone else for loving and sex, anymore.

He had _Peter_.

By the time Peter’s second year was finished, Tony had convinced him that they should live together.

_“To make sure that our mutual friends always know where to send invitations to parties_ ,” had been the reason he gave.

Peter had agreed, but with a catch.

_He_ didn’t want to move in with Tony, and he didn’t want Tony to have to live in a modest place such as his. They would find a new place. _Their_ place. Tony had agreed, and the two went house shopping, rather than _apartment_ hunting. Peter wanted a _yard_. Tony wanted a pool. They didn’t find the perfect place, so by the time Peter finished his third year, they’d built one, instead, and it was perfect.

The day they moved in and tried out the new bed, Tony proposed.

Even better, Peter had said yes.

Now he was finished, and had his new job. The hospital he worked at was a teaching one and Peter was already proving that he was an excellent surgeon and an amazing teacher. Not that _Tony_ was surprised, of course. His baby could do anything, he was sure.

“Where’s the wedding going to be?” Angel asked.

Peter smiled, holding Tony’s hand, and looking at the rings they were both wearing. A promise of a life together.

Stark rolled his eyes.

“Wherever it’s going to be, you can bet that it’ll be someplace we can get to by _car_ or by _boat_. Probably end up getting married in our _front yard_ , or something.”

Peter shrugged, amused, not at all upset at the teasing.

“I’d be okay with that.”

He didn’t care about the where. Only the _who_.

And he knew Tony felt the same.

“I’m not marrying you in our backyard,” Tony told him, maintaining appearances, although the amusement in his eyes clearly told his love otherwise. “I’m not a _hillbilly_.”

“I’ll _pay_ you,” Peter replied.

The billionaire raised an eyebrow.

“I’m _listening_ …”

Angel laughed.

“You can’t buy love, guys. You know that.”

“Of course not,” Peter agreed.

The look he gave Tony, however, clearly said that he was glad the older man had ponied up $100,000 so many years ago to rent the illusion of it, anyway.

Tony smiled his agreement, and took Peter’s elbow.

“She’s right, of course,” he said. “Come on, honey. I need to make my rounds and show off my trophy boyfriend to these losers – present company excluded,” he added to Angel.

Peter grinned.

“I’ll see you, later,” he told her, allowing Tony to lead him away.

Places to go and people to see, after all. It was part of what he was signing up for, and he didn’t mind.

Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!
> 
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**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Date: Time Stamp](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245084) by [Neuropsyche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche)




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